

BY 


1st Lieut. JAMES G. WARREN, Corps of Engineers. 


September, 1891. 


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~Yh*suy L v-Ust*_jL ) 

THE MAGN JET STORIES. 


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ONE DAY'S WEAVING. 


BY 


LYNDE PALMER. 


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AUTHOR OF 

“GOOD FIGHT,” “THE HONORABLE CLUB,” “DRIFTING 
AND STEERING,” ETC. 



TROY, N.Y.: 

MOORE <Se jNT I IVE S . 

NEW YORK: 

WYNKOOP <Sc SHERWOOD, 

1868. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1808, by 
MOORE & N I M S , 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for 
the Northern District of New York. 


J. E. Farwell & Co., 
8tereotypers and Printers, 
37 Congress St., Boston. 


7591 









PREFACE. 


To show the ugliness of Pride, and the 
value and beauty of Love, — the “ Charity that 
suffereth long, and is kind,” — is the aim of 
the volume which the author now lays before 
the young weavers, busy at the looms of life. 

May it be of some small service in helping 
them to discern the Enemy’s threads, and to 
choose the right shuttles, that their webs may 
be woven after the fair pattern, which alone 
can find acceptance at the beautiful gates of 
the King’s palace. 



7591 
































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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

The Weaver’s Home . . . . 11 

CHAPTER II. 

Warp and Woof 37 

CHAPTER III. 

Busy Looms 73 

CHAPTER IV. 

Vernon’s Web 99 

CHAPTER V. 

Choosing Shuttles . . . . 124 

CHAPTER VI. 

One Day’s Weaving . . . . 142 

CHAPTER VII. 

One Day’s Weaving, Continued . . 157 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Shuttle of Cowardice . . . 174 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Unrolling the Web . . . . 188 

* 

CHAPTER X. 

The Judgment op the Weaveijs . . 198 

CHAPTER XL 

The Judgment op the King . . . 223 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Right Pattern .... 239 

CHAPTER XII L 

The Shuttle of Love . . . . 265 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Golden Threads 285 


THE MAGNET STORIES. 


BY LYNDE PALMER. 


1. DRIFTING AND STEERING. 
2. ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 

OTHERS IN PREPARATION. 


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ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


• CHAPTER I. 

THE WEAVER’S HOME. 

HO wants to go down to the store and 
iullvji rae a y ar d more of red flannel ? ” 
EBI as ^ e< ^ Aunt Ann, in her sharp, fretful 
voice. 

There was not very eager competition for the 
honor. Nobody liked to do Aunt Ann’s er- 
rands, for the most unsparing efforts to please 
were sure to fall just a little short of the service 
she expected, and the reward for doing one’s 
best was generally a half hour of fretful up- 
braiding. So, Margaret shrugged her shoulders, 
and looked out of the window, where, in per- 
sistent, drizzling rain the discouraged day was 
yielding to an early dusk. Helen became more 
deeply engaged in a block house she was build- 
ing for Jack. Dick suddenly remembered that 
(ll) 


12 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


the wood-box needed replenishing, and dove 
into the back yard. Bernard, who of course 
would have gone, had happily been detained, 
and was not yet come in. There was only one 
left; and Aunt Ann’s eyes, sweeping angrily 
around, rested upon Carmen, — Carmen, who 
looked back at her calm and smiling, — Car- 
men, who, as Dick said, was the lightning rod 
for the whole family, and always carried off all 
that was dangerous in Aunt Ann’s thunder- 
storms. Whatever slight shocks the others felt, 
they were nothing to the current continually 
thrilling through her , and passing quietly out of 
sight, for Carmen prided herself upon always 
remaining as cold and rigid as the iron that 
lifted its forked head above the south chimney. 
Of all the crosses that had fallen to Aunt Ann’s 
lot, — and she thought she had carried her 
share, — nothing had so galled and irritated her 
as this same quiet impassibility, while, on the 
other hand, nothing gave more unmixed satis- 
faction to wilful Carmen, whose fencings with 
her enemy had enlivened the monotony of many 
a dreary day, when uncle was in the field, 
mother and Aunt Whitmore busy in the dairy, 
and the boys away at the city. 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


13 


But tliis time she disappointed them all, by 
rising and tying on her bonnet. She had 
grown restless, sitting with her sewing through 
all the leaden day. 

“ I will go, Aunt Ann,” said she, briefly. 

Aunt Ann, — a perfect embodiment of sus- 
picion, distrust breathing from the very folds of 
her skimped black gown, as they strained away 
backwards, — looked at her keenly. 

But if she wished to discover Carmen’s mo- 
tives in the offer, she might as well have spent 
her scrutiny upon the wooden head of the gate- 
post ; and very angry and dissatisfied, — though 
she could not tell at what, — she reluctantly 
confided her errand. 

How it pleased wilful Carmen, — knowing 
that Aunt Ann must be watching from some 
loop-hole, — to loiter along the road, to make 
gatherings 0 f bright leaves with a zeal as if she 
had no other object in life, and finally, just be- 
fore she was out of range of the sharp specta- 
cles, — what ecstasy it gave her to pretend to 
drop something, — suddenly discover the loss, 
— retrace her steps with every mark of conster- 
nation, and finally, after apparently anxious 


14 


ONE DAY'S WEAVING. 


search, to wring her hands, and sit down upon 
a stone. It had the desired effect. Though 
generally upon her guard, poor Aunt Ann was 
successfully imposed upon once more, and in a 
minute was seen emerging from the house, her 
hood on awry, her yellow shawl hanging over 
only one lean shoulder, and wrath and anguish 
contending in her face. There was a five-dollar 
bill, she remembered, in a hidden pocket of that 
precious purse she had been so mad as to entrust 
to Carmen, and, even if no dishonest person 
found it, what would be the consequence if it 
should lie an hour or two in this soaking rain ! 
She came up with hurried, uneven steps, her 
heart tightening every moment. Carmen 
looked at her with the most child-like and inno- 
cent expression of wonder. 

“ Why, Aunt Ann! where can you be go- 
ing ! and without an umbrella, too,” she spoke 
with affectionate concern. 

Aunt Ann could hardly command herself. 
“ Confess, Carmen,” said she, “ you have lost 
my purse. Tell me where, this minute.” 

“ If I could tell where it was, Aunt Ann, it 
wouldn’t be lost, would it?” said Carmen 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


15 


cheerfully, at the same time discreetly putting a 
tree between them, as her experience warned 
her that Aunt Ann was longing to shake her. 

“ Depraved child ! ” exclaimed Aunt Ann. 
“It is only Christian grace that can keep us 
from hating some people.” • 

“ If I only had as much as you, Aunt Ann ! ” 
murmured Carmen. 

Aunt Ann did not trust herself to speak for a 
few minutes ; then, in a compressed, unnatural 
tone, that warned Carmen not to trifle with her 
any longer, she said, — 

“ Carmen, this is the last time. Are you 
going to tell me anything about that purse, or 
not?” 

“ O, yes,” said she, diving into her pocket, 
and bringing it forth. “Here it is! what 
could have put it into your head that I had lost 
it?” 

‘ ‘ What were you looking for ? ” asked Aunt 
Ann, sternly. 

“ O, the prettiest stone! blue, and almost 
transparent ; I was so provoked to drop it ! If 
you could only help me look for it, Aunt Ann ; 
I’m almost sure it was an agate, or maybe ” — ■ 


16 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


She had to raise her voice, for Aunt Ann had 
already put no small distance between them, 
and was striding for home, her face full of gnaw- 
ing mortification. 

Carmen went on in the most excellent spirits, 
especially as she caught a glimpse of Dick, 
waving his cap and executing a congratulatory 
somersault behind the wood-pile. The store was 
soon reached, and the purchase made ; but still 
she was in no hurry to go home, although the 
north wind blew gusts of sullen rain against her 
face, and the walking was far from pleasant 
through the sodden leaves. 

“ There are too many of us at home,” said 
she, discontentedly to herself. “ There is not 
room to breathe ; Aunt Whitmore is the old 
woman in her shoe ; she would like to keep 
things straight, and keep us from stepping on 
each other’s toes, but there are so many of us she 
does’nt know what to do. How differently they 
live at the Hammonds ! ” she sighed, as she 
paused in front of a house towards which she 
had unconsciously bent her steps. It was built 
of soft grey stone, with bay windows and piaz- 
zas, a conservatory in the rear, and a lawn in 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


17 


front, always beautiful and green till the snow 
fell upon it. Carmen thought it luxurious as a 
palace, as, in the friendly shelter of the dusk 
she leaned against the fence, and looked wist- 
fully towards the sitting-room windows. She 
might have gone in ; they were always glad to 
see her, but the contrast in their lives irritated 
her more than usual that night ; she did not feel 
like meeting or speaking to them. Still she 
lingered, for, as she expected, the sweet tones 
of a house organ were vibrating across the 
lawn, and Carmen was bound to the spot as by 
some enchanter’s spell. She was excessively 
fond of music, and now, as she listened to the 
full, grand chords, she was quite unconscious of 
the night, the sullen rain, the fretful, complain- 
ing wind. * 4 What wonder,” Carmen thought, 
“that Vernon is good and noble when he can make 
music like that ! ” Perhaps if they had had an 
organ, or even a piano at Uncle Whitmore’s, in 
place of the churn and pounding barrel, she too 
might have sat down now and then, and exorcised 
the evil spirits which so often possessed her, and 
might have filled her heart with better aspirations. 
How happy Vernon must be, playing away in 


18 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


the twilight, with Mabel close at his side, and 
his father dreaming in his easy chair ! Now he 
was beginning to play something ^livelier ; an 
air martial and inspiriting ! Carmen’s excita- 
ble little heart beat tumultuously. She thought 
she could fully understand how, led by music 
such as that, men had marched gladly to the 
cannon’s mouth ! 

Suddenly a golden bar was flung across the 
lawn, almost to Carmen’s feet. The music had 
ceased. A servant was tipping the bronze 
branches of the chandelier with yellow blossoms 
of flame. There was one brief vision of soft 
carpets, lovely pictures, the glowing coal-fire, 
the marvellous French clock just above it, with 
cherubs pointing off the happy hours, the 
centre-table loaded with the last new books, 
the easy chairs drawn to its side, and then the 
heavy curtains drooped, and Carmen awoke out 
in the wet and cold. She shivered a little, 
wrapped her damp shawl more closely about 
her, picked up Aunt Ann’s bundle, which had 
dropped in the wet, and turned homeward. 
She did not know how long she had been stand- 
ing there, but certainly long enough to merit a 


THE WEAVERS HOME. 


19 


mild rebuke from her mother, and a tornado 
from Aunt Ann. However, this gave her but 
slight uneasiness, and as she went on, past the 
stores, past the bit of dark river, across which 
the lights of the city streamed faintly, she be- 
guiled the loneliness of the way with dreaming. 
— “If I were only rich, if I were only rich ! ” 
was the ceaseless refrain of her thoughts. 
Wealth, and worldly honors and distinctions, 
would make her so very happy, she thought. 
As for those queer delusions some people had, 
that there was any pleasure in self-denial, and 
living for others, she could not understand it at all. 
It was all nonsense. To be sure she was a little 
staggered when she thought of Uncle and Aunt 
Whitmore, her mother, and even Bernard and 
Helen, but then their peace and contentment 
was just a matter of disposition ; it was just as 
natural for them to be happy and good-tempered, 
as it was for her to be excitable and irritable. 
She was very different from the rest, with a dis- 
position, perhaps, inherited from the Spanish 
grandmother for whom she was named. She 
had heard that all great souls were filled with a 
noble unrest, — a dissatisfaction inherited di- 


20 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


rectly from Eve, who, having forfeited Para- 
dise, could only bequeath to her unhappy chil- 
dren, her own yearning homesickness for its 
joys. Carmen thought she understood this 
very well. She never passed one day without 
regret for something she had lost. It was only 
four years ago, she remembered, that her hand- 
some, young father had sailed to claim the 
fortune, which would have made them rich, 
richer than the Hammonds, perhaps ! How 
cruel, then, how almost unbearable, that the 
storm-winds must blow, till the strong ship was 
driven shivering upon the rocks ; her father was 
lost, and with him all the precious papers that 
proved their right to the grand fortune. And 
so the gates of Paradise were shut to Carmen. 
What a sad change it was ! She had always 
been so indulged till then, — she had had fine 
dresses and ribbons, — a little horse to ride, 
and masters to teach her French and music; 
but all had to be given up. When the estate 
was settled, there was just enough to save them 
from being utter beggars. And they came to 
live in the shoe , with Uncle Whitmore, and 
Aunt Whitmore, and Aunt Ann, and Bernard, 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


21 


and Margaret, and Dick, Helen, and Jack ; she 
felt suffocated when she thought of it. And her 
mother would persist in saying that they ought 
to be very grateful that Uncle Whitmore had 
made room for them in such a pleasant home ! 
Carmen sighed heavily. “Mother thought,” 
she said, “ that I should like it very much when 
I was used to the change. I was only ten then, 
and now I am fourteen, almost a woman, and I 
hate it worse than ever. I was not meant for 
such an obscure position, I am sure. Ah ! if 
my dearest father had only lived, how happy I 
should have been this dismal Fall evening ! ” 
and she imagined herself standing in a luxurious 
apartment, before a long mirror, dressed in a 
stiff, shining silk, with soft laces about her 
throat. There should be flowers everywhere, 
and music? yes, she should always have some 
one playing lullaby s to the sleepy day, from the 
time its eyelids first drooped in twilight, till 
they were shut in night. The dream was very 
engrossing, and when Carmen at last came to 
her senses, she found that the old, red house, 
with its white shutters, and narrow, small-paned 
windows had been left far in the rear. With no 


22 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


little vexation she retraced her steps, but, in spite 
of her haste, as she passed in the gate, she could 
not resist pausing for another interior view, at a 
window whose curtain was scarcely drawn 
together. An unprejudiced person might cer- 
tainly have thought it a cheerful scene that met 
Carmen’s eye, but she gazed with growing dis- 
content. To be sure, the wood-fire blazed 
brightly in the huge old chimney, and the fam- 
ily looked very cosey and comfortable, gathered 
about it. But then the furniture was so dread- 
fully worn and shabby ; Uncle Whitmore’s 
chair being actually covered over with curtain 
calico ! the carpet was faded, and, for specimens 
of high art, the walls were adorned with some 
dingy engravings of the Revolutionary War, 
which hung stiffly in a row. Any ordinary 
pride, Carmen thought, would have died of 
starvation, long ago, in such a home as this, but 
hers had always been vigorous, and could thrive 
even on a few scanty hopes for the future. It 
provoked her now, as she looked around, to see 
how calm and contented almost all the faces 
were. There was Uncle Whitmore, sitting 
with the evening paper by the large table, 


THE WEAVERS HOME. 


23 


which, when tea was over, — and Aunt Ann 
had managed to dispatch that meal with un- 
usual promptness on this occasion, — was al- 
ways spread with a pretty, bright cover, and 
drawn in front of the fire. It was a pleasant, 
thoughtful face upon which Carmen looked, but 
if she were a man, she thought, with a curl of 
the lip, she never could sit down so quietly, as 
if life had nothing better to offer than a blazing 
fire, and a pair of loose slippers ! Only to think 
when there were honors and wealth to be gained, 
when one might be a Caesar or a Croesus, 
Uncle Whitmore had been content to be a small 
farmer ! What if people did seem to respect 
him, and rich Mr. Hammond made him his 
most intimate friend, she could not help feeling 
that he ought to have placed his family in a 
better position, even if his health were poor, as 
they said, and did not admit of confining, in- 
door business. Some farmers grew rich ; it 
was perfectly unaccountable how they grovelled 
along, unless one believed in the old fable, that 
there was a giant miser who counted his gold 
one night, his silver the next, and his copper 
the next ; and whoever was born on the first 


24 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


night would be very wealthy, and always hear 
the chink of gold ; whoever was born on the 
second, would have at least competence and 
comfort ; but the unfortunates who saw the 
light on the third night, counted nothing but 
copper all their lives! “Uncle Whitmore,” 
said Carmen, summing up the whole matter, 
“ was born upon the third night.” 

Bernard sat next to his father, with his head 
bent low over some history. It was his only 
time to read, for Mr. Hammond had given him 
a situation in his warehouse, and he wa3 busy 
enough through the day. He was doing very 
well for a boy of eighteen ; he might be rich 
some day, and she respected him for the possi- 
bility, although, in her heart, she had a fear that 
he was a little too good to be very successful. 

Next sat Dick scowling over a problem, Dick 
who meant to have an education, and was deter- 
mined to work his way through college, and so, 
of course, would be poor as a church-mouse for 
many a long year. But here Carmen’s heart 
triumphed over her head ; she smiled uncon- 
sciously as she looked at the frank, open face, 
every inch of which she knew, and loved, from 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


25 


the fair, unruly hair, down to the dimple in his 
chin. 

On the other side of the table sat Aunt Ann, 
stiff and rigid. Dick always insisted that she 
had at least one wooden leg. She, also, had a 
book in her hand, but her spectacles often 
peered above it, as if she were waiting and 
watching for some one. Carmen very well 
knew for whom, and determined that the en- 
counter should be as when Greek meets Greek. 

Margaret came next, very fair, and very 
pretty, as Carmen unwillingly acknowledged, 
even with her light blue eyes rolled up so affect- 
edly, as she sat with pencil suspended over a bit 
of paper, “ writing some heart-broken poetry 
again,” laughed Carmen to Herself; for Mar- 
garet was always sighing, and thought it very 
interesting, at sixteen, to be perfectly weary of 
life. 

Then there was Helen, a delicate, good child, 
a most unobtrusive cipher, who never made the 
least difference in the sum of the family calcula- 
tions ; and, finally, Jack, the little, romping, 
five-year-old baby of the house — a pretty pic- 
ture enough, with her head on her father’s knee, 


26 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


and Muff, the old cat, asleep in her lap. Jack, 
who wasn’t a boy at all, but owed her name to 
mischievous Dick, who would persist in consid- 
ering her in the light of a brother. 

© © 

They had all been sitting very still, when a 
sudden gust of wind, wailing down the chimney, 
blew a shower of ashes and sparks out into the 
room. 

“ It’s a bad night for them at sea,” remarked 
good, simple Aunt Whitmore, from her chim- 
ney corner. 

Carmen’s gentle mother, on the opposite side, 
wiped her eyes and laid down her endless knit- 
ting, — in such a family as Aunt Whitmore’s, 
some one’s heels were always upon the ground. 

But the girl outside the window was in no 
softened mood. 

“ What a dreadful mistake for Uncle Whit- 
more to marry that common, uneducated wom- 
an ! ” she said to herself. 4 ‘ They say she 
was very pretty when she was young, and cer- 
tainly she must always have been good,” — she 
looked at the face beaming with peace and good- 
will to all the world, 44 but what a pity she can’t 
exchange one or two virtues for a page of Eng- 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


27 


lish grammar ! it would be much more useful to 
her in this world, and save us all such endless 
mortifications. How queer, too, that Uncle 
seems to love her in spite of all, and treats her 
with such respect, and old-fashioned politeness, 
and wishes us all to defer to her as the lady of 
the house. But he don’t know how it is when 
his back is turned. Aunt Ann is the real head, 
a perfect tyrant, and rules everybody, from Aunt 
Whitmore down to Jack, — everybody but me, 
and it may be Dick, and possibly, at times, 
Margaret, who is her favorite, and may do what 
she pleases.” 

Carmen’s meditations came to a sudden close, 
as a gust of wind blew her umbrella violently 
against the window-sash. There was quite a 
sensation within. 

“ What was that?” said Aunt Ann, who was 
inclined to be superstitious, in a low, awe-struck 
voice, “I am sure I saw a white face at the 
window ! ” 

Margaret turned a little pale. 

“ Nonsense,” said Uncle Whitmore, rising to 
come to the door, where Carmen hastily pre- 
sented herself, wet and contrite. 


28 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


4 4 So it was you ! ” cried Aunt Ann , 44 coming 
around in such an uncanny way like an evil 
spirit, as I half believe you are ! ” 

Carmen was sure if Aunt Ann had been 
a Catholic, she would have crossed herself. 

44 A very nice, fresh-looking evil spirit, Aunt 
Ann !” said Bernard, coming forward to take off 
Carmen’s wet shawl, with the gentle courtesy she 
knew he had learned from Vernon Hammond. 

44 How wet you air, child !” said good Aunt 
Whitmore. 44 Come right here in my seat ; 
where hive you ben so long ?” 

44 Walking up and down in the world, and 
going to and fro in it,” said Aunt Ann, sol- 
emnly. 

4 ‘Come, Ann,” said Uncle Whitmore, gravely, 
44 that is going a little too far,” while a faint 
flush rose in the cheeks of Carmen’s timid 
mother. 

44 Where is my flannel ?” asked Aunt Ann. 

It was very silly and childish in Carmen, but 
she again made a feint of consternation, she felt 
in her pocket, she went hurriedly and shook out 
her shawl, and when she saw by Aunt Ann’s 
changing color that the ruse had been again 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


29 


successful, she quietly drew it from her sleeve. 
Dick giggled, and Aunt Ann looked unutterable 
things at her brother. 

4 4 Carmen,” said Uncle Whitmore, “you are 
getting almost too old for such tricks.” 

She hung her head abashed, while Aunt 
Ann’s eyes twinkled satisfaction, and Margaret 
smiled quietly to herself. Uncle Whitmore so 
seldom reproved any one. Dick looked sym- 
pathy, and Bernard pretended to be absorbed 
in his book. 

44 Carmen,” said Aunt Ann at last, breaking 
the embarrassing pause that had followed Uncle 
Whitmore’s speech, 44 1 have something I would 
like to read you, if you can give me your atten- 
tion a few minutes.” 

44 Of course she will,” interposed Carmen’s 
little mother, anxiously. 

4 4 4 The sun,”’ Aunt Ann began to read 
with great emphasis, — “ 4 is a wonderful artist ! 
every ray of light is a pencil or a brush, and si- 
lently, ceaselessly he is taking an indelible im- 
pression of every action done in his sight. Noth- 
ing can be lost. A vast gallery of photographs 
is being hung upon the ceilings of immensity, 


30 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


preserving, perpetuating, the successive events 
along the whole cycle of human existence. ’ ” 

“ That is a very solemn thought,” said Uncle 
Whitmore, gravely. 

“ Listen,” said Aunt Ann, more impres- 
sively, with a sharp glance to see that Carmen 
was attending, — “ ‘ The picture of Cain, in the 
act of murdering his brother, is still in existence, 
and disembodied spirits may visit the apartment 
in which the picture hangs side by side with pho- 
tographs of the other events of that day. Every 
secret act, which the light of day has shone 
upon, has been commemorated in the galleries 
of the heavens. If you have perpetrated an 
act of shame — ’ ” Aunt Ann made a full, and 
most embarassing pause, with her eyes fixed 
upon Carmen, — “ ‘ your conscious spirit will one 
day stand face to face with the full and public 
delineation of it, ’ public, Carmen, mind that,” 
she interpolated — ‘ ‘ ‘ upon the imperishable can- 
vas of the universe ! ’ ” She delivered the last 
words very slowly, her voice sinking to quite an 
awful whisper. 

' “ Why, what has Carmen been doing now?” 
asked Bernard, just a little amused. 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


31 


‘ ‘ There is a scene which happened not a year 
ago,” said Aunt Ann, significantly, “which 
showed somebody in a very unflattering light. 
It was only meant for my eyes, and I would 
gladly spare this person the mortification of hav- 
ing it seen by others for whose good opinion she 
cares ; but it is not in my power to prevent it. 
An indelible impression has already been taken. 
According to this man of science, it is hung 
even now upon the ‘ceilings of immensity’ ; 
the angels, the disembodied spirits, may be look- 
ing at it this very moment ! ” 

Bernard looked inquiringly at his father, who 
shook his head with discreet gravity. 

Dick crept behind Carmen’s chair. 

“ And if they’re looking, Carmen, I wonder 
how they liked Aunt Ann’s yellow shawl ? and 
if they didn’t think she looked a little curious 
when she found — O my!” said Dick, sud- 
denly overcome with the recollection. 

Carmen trembled for him. A joke to his na- 
ture was like a match to gunpowder, always fol- 
lowed by an uproarious explosion. 

But on this occasion, a grave shake of his 
father’s head, warned him to indulge in no un- 


32 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


timely mirth, and, under cover of a cough, a 
sneeze, and a vehement blowing of his nose, he 
managed to get back to his seat without dis- 
gracing himself. 

There was profound silence for a few minutes, 
while Aunt Ann hoped that Carmen was being 
suitably impressed with the important truths 
presented to her. Encouraged, at last, by her 
attitude, for she was tired, and sat drooping and 
listless by the fire, Aunt Ann began again, in a 
somewhat softened tone. 

“ And now, Carmen, there is a lesson to be 
learned from these solemn truths, is there not? ” 

“ Yes, aunt,” said Carmen, very meekly. 

And what should you say it was?” said 
Aunt Ann, in an encouraging tone. 

“To do everything bad in the dark, or by 
candle-light,” said Carmen, looking up in the 
blankest innocence. 

Uncle Whitmore smiled, in spite of himself, 
behind his paper, and Dick again crept around 
to clap her on the back, and whisper between 
suffocating giggles, “ What a trump you are, 
Carmen ! ” 

“ She doesn’t mean it, Ann, I’m sure she 
doesn’t ! ” said Carmen’s mother, anxiously. 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


33 




“Indeed she does!” replied Aunt Ann, 
who, at first astonished as if she had had a pail- 
of cold water dashed in her face, was now in- 
dignantly recovering herself. “ That child of 
yours, Lucy, has no soul , no more than the 
brute beasts ! ” 

An expression, certainly not of displeasure, 
ran over Margaret’s fair face, like a ripple over 
a pond. 

4 4 How wet she is ! ” said good Aunt Whit- 
more with sudden concern, feeling of Carmen’s 
skirts. 44 Lucy, I think you had ought to put 
her right to bed, with a hot brick to her feet ; 
I’m afeared she might have a run of fever.” 

The little mother caught at the suggestion 
with a look full of gratitude, and hurried Car- 
men, half resisting, from the room. 

44 Why do you irritate your Aunt Ann in 
such a way, dear child?” said she, with gentle 
reproach, as they reached the little room, in the 
farthest angle of the building,, which Carmen 
had chosen because she might have it alone. . 

“Because, pretty, little mother,” said the 
girl, taking her on her lap, for she was already 
the larger and stronger of the two, “ haven’t 
3 


34 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


you often told me that nothing spoils people 
quicker than always having their own • way ? 
Now, Aunt Ann is in great danger of becoming 
a tyrant, and I am a sort of home missionary 
trying to save her, making a perfect martyr of 
myself just for her good, don’t you see? ” 

The poor. little mother looked hopelessly at 
her wilful daughter. If she only knew how to 
say just the right thing ! But the clever girl 
was fast getting beyond her depth. If her 
father had only lived, he would have known 
how to manage her ; she was like her father. 

There was a knock at the door. 

“By the pricking of my thumbs, 

Something wicked this way comes}” 

laughed Carmen ; and immediately Dick thrust 
in his merry face. 

44 I was coming to say good night,” said he, 
4 4 but Aunt Ann says you are a child of the evil 
one.” 

“ That doesn’t make me so, does it?” said 
Carmen, coming towards him. 

4 4 1 don’t know,” said he, with pretended 
reluctance, keeping his hands behind him. 
44 Oughtn’t Aunt Ann to know how many chil- 


THE WEAVER’S HOME. 


35 


dren her father has ? ” and Dick put no restraint 
to the explosion that followed. 

“ I suppose you know that isn’t very orig- 
inal,” said Carmen. 

“ And worse than that, it is a very poor 
joke,” said the little mother, truly grieved. 

Dick, greatly abashed, made a humble apol- 

ogy- 

“Now, perhaps you will consider it an honor 
if I will shake hands with you” said Carmen, 
dancing behind him, and surprising a buttered 
biscuit and a seed cake in either brown palm. 

“ There ! ” said Dick, in apparent confusion, 
“ I had cribbed these, and was going to sit on 
the hall-stairs to eat them. Now I suppose 
you’ll think I might give you some, as you didn’t 
have any supper.” 

“ Not at all,” said Carmen, the least touch 
of frost in her tone. “ Your first intention 
proved your wisdom. I don’t think you could 
give them to any one in the world who would 
be so sincerely grateful as Dick Whitmore.” 

“Pshaw, Carmen!” cried Dick, his smiles 
vanishing under a cloud of injured feeling. 
“ Don’t be so stupid ; you know I brought them 


36 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


for you. I saved them on purpose,” and, 
throwing them on the little table, he was gone 
before she could thank him. 

Carmen did not feel altogether comfortable, 
after the little mother had tucked her in bed, 
and, with the kiss of forgiveness she could never 
refuse, had gone away with the candle. The 
wind had risen to a gale, and her room in the 
north-west gable of the house, — the toe of the 
old shoe, as Carmen called it, — felt the full 
force of it. Her conscience, quiet enough 
during the day, sometimes pricked at night, 
and she wondered if she didn’t deserve some- 
thing very bad indeed, wondered, — as her little 
bed seemed to fairly rock in a sudden gust, — 
if she and the * ‘ toe ” might not be swept away 
together, hours before the firm, comfortable, 
old pegs in the heel would know anything about 
it. But, even in the midst of her fears, sleep 
swept down upon her, and the rough lullabys 
of the wind only sang her into deeper forget- 
fulness. 


CHAPTER H. 


WARP AND WOOF. 

HE next day passed very uncomfortably. 
Carmen overslept herself, and Dick 
already had his books strapped over his 
shoulder, when she came slowly down 

stairs. 

<< I am sorry for you,” said he, with a glance 
of rueful sympathy. “ The old shoe has been 
brushed, afcd the loose strings tied, an hour ago, 
and Aunt Ann says there is no breakfast for 
shirks.” 

Carmen glanced carelessly towards that irate 
lady. 

<< No use,” said Dick. “ ’Twixt her and you 
there’s a great gulf fixed ; not a drop of water 
from that direction ; but,” — he sank his voice 
to the lowest whisper — “I happened to see 
some cold toast, and a bit of chicken in the 

queerest place 5 under a tub in the back kitchen , 
( 37 ) 



38 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Carmen ! it ought to be taken out ; ” and Dick 
was off, whistling. 

“ Carmen,” said Aunt Ann, “ how long are 
you going to stand there idling? There is a 
great deal to be done to-day.” 

There was always a great deal to be done in 
Aunt Whitmore’s household. They kept no 
servant, to Carmen’s great grief and mortifica- 
tion, and now, of course, they had saved some- 
thing very disagreeable for her to do. Aunt 
Whitmore was baking, the little mother assist- 
ing. Margaret was lying on the sofa, complain- 
ing of headache, or something, as she generally 
was. Aunt Ann was attacking the week’s 
mending with an amount of energy that would 
have captured a fortress. Carmen often won- 
dered how the meek, limp stockings dared to be 
in such holes. What was there left to do? 

“ There is the churning,” said Aunt Ann, 
answering the unspoken question. “ You had 
better go at it at once. Margaret is sick, as 
you see, but it will be nothing for your strong, 
young arms.” 

But it would for her hands, Carmen thought, 
as Aunt Ann very well knew. Margaret’s sud- 


WARP AND WOOF. 


39 


den illness was accounted for. There was 
nothing they both more heartily disliked than 
churning. Carmen looked at her hands, 
small and delicate, like her grandmother’s, she 
thought ; she longed to keep them soft and pli- 
able like pretty Mabel Hammond’s. But it 
would not do to hesitate, and allow Aunt Ann 
the satisfaction of thinking she had made her 
uncomfortable. So Carmen went towards the 
churn, humming a gay, little song*, while she 
furtively drew a pair of old gloves from her 
pocket to protect the pretty hands. Nothing, 
however, could escape Aunt Ann’s quick 
vision . 

“ O, this sinful, sinful pride!” she ex- 
claimed. “Where did she get it? It was 
never in our family.” 

“ It was in my father’s, then, where it had a 
ris:ht to be ! ” returned Carmen. 

“ Let the child be, Ann,” said good-natured 
Aunt Whitmore. “ I was pretty nigh as fool- 
is hmyself, when I was her age. She’ll have 
time to git over it before she’s as old as we be.” 

This classification of age did not at all suit 
Aunt Ann, whose attention was effectually di- 


40 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


verted from Carmen, while she proved how 
many years she was the junior of matronly Aunt 
Whitmore. In the midst of her calculations, 
and appeals to the family Bible, there was a 
knock at the back door. It was probably a 
neighbor’s child after a pail of buttermilk, 
Carmen thought, as she went on diligently with 
her churning. 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Ann,” said a 
pleasant voice, as she opened the door. “ I 
have been at the front of the house, but I 
couldn’t make any one hear, and father was so 
very anxious I should see Mr. Whitmore about 
that horse.” 

Carmen colored, dropped the churn handle, 
and tore off her unsightly gloves. It was the 
bright face of Yernon Hammond looking in at 
the door ! What could he have thought to see 
her churning like the commonest dairy-maid ! 
She was ready to cry with vexation. It was just 
possible he had not seen her, and pulling down 
her sleeves she came a few steps forward ; but 
the hope was vain, and, while Aunt Ann went 
to the barn looking for Uncle Whitmore, and 
Margaret came languidly to invite him into the 
inner room, — he turned, smiling, to Carmen. 


WARP AND WOOF. 


41 


“You and I can sympathize to-day, I see. 
Father has given me seven days* work to do in 
about as many hours. He does not believe in 
folding one’s hands, you know. But I was 
reading something very encouraging for you and 
me, last night ; just three words ; they would 
make a good motto : ‘ Laborare est orare .’ ” 

“ And what is that?” said Carmen, for she 
was not much of a scholar. 

“ To work is to pray,” said he ; “ or, work is 
prayer. Don’t you think you and I are in a 
fair way to make an astonishing pair of saints ? ” 
“ If it’s only the right work, and done with a 
cheerful spirit,” said the little mother, timidly. 

But Aunt Ann was already back with infor- 
mation that Uncle Whitmore must have gone 
down to the village store, and Vernon, cour- 
teously declining Margaret’s invitation, as he 
was apxious to follow his father to the city as 
soon as possible, hastily bowed himself out. 

“ A sweet tempered lad as ever I see,” said 
Aunt Whitmore, looking after him affec- 
tionately. 

“ Not quite so good-for-nothing as most rich 
men’s sons,” said Aunt Ann, grimly : and it was 


42 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


as near an approach to a compliment as was 
ever heard from her mouth. 

Of course, Margaret’s head ached harder than 
ever, as she went back to the sofa, and Carmen 
was far from happy. She thought the only rea- 
son Yernon had spoken as he had, was because 
he had the kindest heart in the world, with a 
great deal of tact, and was always anxious to 
put every one at ease. She did not believe he 
would like to see his sister Mabel churning, or 
at any such menial labor. No, her fingers 
were made to play the piano, and work pretty 
nothings in bead and worsted ! Carmen was 
almost ready to cry again at the contrast her 
imagination had pictured. She didn’t like his 
motto, Labor are est or are. She was sure she 
didn’t like to work, and she didn’t believe she 
cared to pray either. Then she looked around 
again ; her pride very seldom let her J^ave a 
minute’s comfort — and wondered if he noticed 
that there was no servant, when at his home, 
they had one for every finger and thumb, to say 
nothing of the housekeeper. Carmen, lost in 
these thoughts, forgot to churn, and Aunt Whit- 
more kindly took it out of her hands. 


WARP AND WOOF. 


43 


“ There, child, you look fagged out; it’s 
hard work for you. Go, sew a while on your 
new gown.” 

Carmen gladly complied, spending most of 
the rest of the day fashioning the blue merino, 
which was to be her best dress for all the win- 
ter. It was a most depressing afternoon, es- 
pecially as Aunt Ann read aloud a ♦sermon 
upon the text, “Pride goeth before destruc- 
tion,” regretting deeply when the early twilight 
fell just as she had reached the application. 
Then life began to brighten a little, for Dick 
and Bernard came home, and a chatty neighbor 
called to invite the elder members of the family 
to a little evening gathering, in honor of the 
minister’s new wife. Aunt Ann became inter- 
ested, and Dick and Carmen, profiting by her 
pre-occupation, concocted a most brilliant plan, 
under the very nose of the enemy. 

“ Be very careful, Dick,” whispered Carmen, 
“ don’t let her suspect anything, or she’ll never 
go,” and they waited in fear and trembling. 

But, after tea, things looked very favorable. 
Aunt Ann, after long wavering, and deep study 
of Carmen’s.face, which, if betraying anything 


44 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


besides vacancy, it was the deepest despondency, 
finally arrayed herself in her best black silk, 
with her big topaz pin, and set out with Uncle 
and Aunt Whitmore, and the little mother. 

As soon as the garden gate had fairly clicked 
in the latch, Dick sprang up from an attitude of 
deep dejection, and gave a crow that must have 
disheartened every rooster in the barn -yard. 

“What does that mean?” said Bernard, 
looking up in surprise from his history of Eng- 
land. 

“ It means,” said Carmen, “ that this is Hal- 
loweE’en, and the fairies and goblins will show 
us whatever we want to see ! ” 

“ Nonsense,” cried Bernard, returning reso- 
lutely to his book ; but Carmen and Dick had 
their arms around his neck, pleading that all 
work and no play was making him such an out- 
rageously dull boy, and he must, just for once, 
lay his grand airs on the shelf. Even Margaret 
began to be languidly interested, and joined her 
entreaties. His book was taken away, and with 
many a vain protest, Bernard resigned himself 
to his fate. 

Carmen and Dick now brought in a tub of 


WARP AND WOOF. 


45 


water, upon which was sailing a fleet of rosy- 
cheeked and golden apples, each one bearing a 
name written on a little curled pennant of paper. 
Carmen had been thinking of it all the after- 
noon, while Aunt Ann was reading her sermon. 

“Now, Bernard,” explained Dick, “ the yel- 
low apples are girls, and the rosy-cheeks, boys. 
We must each make a choice, and then get it 
out of the water by taking the stem in our teeth. 
May the fairies send each of us our favorites.” 

The trial began in great merriment. It was 
by no means such an easy matter as was at 
first supposed, the apples dodged and coquetted, 
and treacherously lured their noses to a ducking, 
time and time again. At last, however, Ber- 
nard brought out in triumph the apple named 
Mabel Hammond, while Margaret, with a drip- 
ping face, found, as she unrolled her paper, 
that she had only secured Joe Warner, who was 
her special aversion. 

Carmen hung carefully poised over the apple 
of her choice. 

“ You know them all,” said Margaret, wiping 
the water but not the ill-nature, which was more 
of a disfigurement, from her face. “You and 


46 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Dick wrote all the names. Of course you will 
get what you want.” 

“ How much one can always learn from Mar- 
garet ! ” murmured Dick in pretended admira- 
tion. “Now we were such a pair of innocents, 
it never once occurred to us to cheat. Carmen 
wrote the girls’ names, and I — Steady now ! 
steady Carmen,” he cried, as she prepared for 
a final dive. “ You’ll have him, there, easy 
now ! ” 

But just then, in some way, Margaret stum- 
bled, came violently against Carmen’s shoulder, 
and down went her whole head, the water gurg- 
ling into her mouth and ears. 

Margaret was full of apologies and lamenta- 
tions, a little too much so to leave her innocence 
beyond suspicion, but Carmen was ominously 
silent, as she wiped her face, and took down her 
long hair to dry it. 

“ Can’t you forgive me for being so unfortu- 
nate as to stumble?” persisted Margaret, with 
an air of injured virtue. 

“ Perhaps I had better. I may have an acci- 
dent myself, sometime,” said Carmen, pointedly. 

“Ah, Carmen, I wouldn’t say that!” said 
Dick, who understood the implied threat. 


WARP AND WOOF. 


47 


Margaret colored with uneasiness, and Ber- 
nard, a kind of moral barometer, whose face al- 
ways fell at signs of a coming storm, beckoned 
to his brother, and the apples of discord were 
hastily carried out of sight. 

“ Let us try the next trick,” said Dick, com- 
ing back panting. ‘ ‘ That was very childish 
business, after all, but the next wants real cour- 
age.” 

“ What is it?” said Carmen, immediately in- 
terested, as he knew she would be. 

“ All the lights must be put out,” said Dick, 
in an impressive tone, “ you must drink a glass 
of salt and water, go into the best room all 
alone, I believe there’s a charm to say back- 
wards, but I’ve forgo Ken it, and I guess it’s of 
no consequence ; you must go up to the mirror, 
turn around three times, then look in, and you 
will see your future partner in life, just peeping 
over your left shoulder ! Who will try first ? ” 

“ No one, I hope,” said Bernard, “ it is very . 
silly, and besides I don’t think it’s quite right.” 

“ Nothing would tempt me,” said Margaret, 
drawing back timidly. 


48 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“Did it really ever happen?” said Helen, 
with big, frightened eyes, raising herself from 
the sofa, where she had half fallen asleep. 

“ O, often,” said Dick, carelessly, “Susan 
Lee told me to-day that her sister tried it once, 
and a man with light whiskers came and looked 
over her head. She fainted dead away, and 
just fifteen years afterwards, she married Alick 
Porter, her second husband, you know, whose 
hair was a perfect tow.” 

“ How wonderful ! ” said Bernard, with mock 
gravity. “ But then, there is no hurry about 
this valuable information ; let us wait ten or 
twelve years.” 

“ I should like to try it to-night,” said Car- 
men, with burning cheeks. 

“ Then you shall, dear, ” said Dick, immedi- 
ately preparing the salt and water, and extin- 
guishing the big lamp and two candles. 

Carmen conscientiously poured down the un- 
palatable draught, with scoffing encouragement 
from Bernard, and was escorted to the door of 
the parlor. 

“ It is a real witches’ night,” said Dick, in a 
low tone, as in the silence, the wind, scarcely 


WARP AND WOOF. 


49 


noticed before, seemed to be rattling at every 
latch and window-shutter of the house. 

Carmen made a step forward, and paused. 
The chill of the unused room made her shiver, — 
the stately furniture looked very ghostly in the 
faint light streaming from the sitting-room fire, — 
strange, little, fluttering noises made the dark 
corners quite mysterious and awful, but worst 
of all, there was such an unearthly scrambling 
and moaning in the chimney. 

“ You are not afraid, Carmen,” said Dick, 
in a bantering tone. “ That’s only the great 
grandmother of all the witches, sweeping -in 
your lover with her big broom.” 

The outer door opened. 

‘ ‘ Don’t look backwards for the world ! ” said 
Dick. “ Bernard is going for a stick of wood 
or something. Go on now, quick ! ” 

Carmen resolutely went forward, turned 
three times, and forced herself up to the great 
shadowy mirror. Now Carmen had always a 
very curious feeling with regard to a mirror. 
Other articles of furniture were blind, she 
thought, but a mirror could see ! It had made 
her uneasy sometimes, it was such a deep, sly, 
4 


LIBRARY 

ENHIMPPO Cz-'u 


50 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


prying thing ! nothing could escape it. She 
was afraid of what it might see now. 

“ Do you see anything, sister Annie?” called 
Dick. Carmen lifted her eyes with the greatest 
effort. 

Was it her excited imagination, or did she 
indeed hear a quick breathing at her ear, and 
Oh , horrible ! was there a shadowy head looking 
over her shoulder ? There could not be a doubt 
of it ! Carmen gazed at it in all the helpless fas- 
cination of nightmare. There was a suppressed 
giggle from the other room. Ah f if they only 
could know how she was suffering ! 

She gave a little, gasping cry, the head van- 
> ished, and Dick was instantly at her side, leading 
her back, while Bernard quickly lighted the can- 
dles. 

“Why Carmen, how white you are!” said 
Dick. “ I didn’t think anything could frighten 

you” 

“ What did you see?” asked Margaret, dis- 
agreeably. 

“ I will never tell,” said Carmen. 

“Won’t you, indeed !” laughed Margaret. ‘ ‘ So 
you really think you have had a revelation from 


WARP AND WOOF. 


51 


the goblins, and that it will all come true ! How 
credulous you are ! It is a pity to spoil such a 
pleasant delusion, but, — Vernon,” she called in 
a louder tone, “you may as well show your- 
self.” 

And the head Carmen had seen, — Vernon 
Hammond’s head, now upon his own good shoul- 
ders, emerged from the dusk of the parlor. He 
came towards her with a look of the most gen- 
uine regret. 

“ I cannot forgive myself, Carmen, for hav- 
ing given you such a fright. I have no patience 
with myself, it was so boyish and stupid. 

“ Hush,” cried Dick, “ now you are calling 
me names. I am the true and only culprit. 
Vernon happened in the door, just in the nick 
of time, and I thought it would be such fun if he 
could steal up behind you ! we all did.” 

“ All but Margaret,” interposed Vernon. 
“ She knew better what excitable heads girls 
have, and opposed it. I wish I had listened to 
her. You must exculpate Margaret.” 

“ I do,” said Carmen, briefly, and Margaret 
knew there was sincerity if not gratitude in the 
tone. 


52 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ And you cannot forgive the rest of us?” 
said Vernon, as Bernard came up with a bottle 
of camphor. 

Carmen pushed it away impatiently. The 
affair had taken such a mortifying turn, they 
must all think her exceedingly foolish She ral- 
lied all her pride that, at least, no one should 
know how she had taken it to heart. 

“ There is nothing to forgive,” she said, 
“ and I do not need any attentions. I am 
quite myself. Dick, what were we going to do 
next?” 

“ O, let all the nonsense go,” said Bernard, 

‘ ‘ I don’t see that we have had much fun out of 
it. Let’s sit by this blazing fire, and have a 
nice comfortable talk.” 

“Well, we’ll rest a few minutes,” said Dick, 
with half assent, “ that is, if any one has any- 
thing interesting to say.” 

“ I don’t know whether you will think it in- 
teresting,” said Vernon, “ but I’ll tell you what 
brought me down here to-night. Mabel has 
been looking over a trunk full of old letters she 
discovered in the garret, and among other things, < 
she stumbled upon a queer little bit of writing, 


WARP AND WOOF. 


53 


on the yellowest paper, — we could just make it 
out. I didn’t think so much of it when I first 
read it, but, some way, it has been running in 
my head ever since, and I brought it down 
to read to you. It seems to me rather good.” 

“ Let’s h&ir it,” said Dick, pompously, “ and 
we will tell you whether your judgment is good 
for anything.” 

“ Thanks for your majesty’s condescension,” 
laughed Vernon, “but I anticipate the royal 
sentence, which will be condensed in one brief 
word — 4 poky ! ’ ” 

44 Nevertheless, we will hear it,” said Dick, 
with a gracious wave of the hand. 

Vernon unfolded his little worn paper. “ It 
is called,” said he, 

The King’s Weavers. 

There was once a great king who had the 
most splendid palace that was ever imagined. 
The greatest writers and poets had tried in vain to 
describe it, though they used words which were 
like apples of gold set in pictures of silver. In- 
deed they seemed to become almost bewildered 
in the attempt, their description was a confusion 
of sapphires and emeralds, and rubies and rain- 


54 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


bows, and in the end they had to leave it to every 
one’s imagination, and he, who imagined most, 
could never come near the reality. 

Now there were some subjects of the king, 
who lived in a distant province, and knew and 
cared very little about their Master* although, 
in all his splendor, he had never forgotten them, 
and was daily sending them proofs of his inter- 
est and care for them. 

The principal business of this people was 
weaving. Night and day they were busy at a 
wonderful web. They began it when they were 
mere babies, and they never stopped till the 
king sent a messenger to take the shuttles from 
their hands, and order them to bring their work 
home. 

Now the king wished these tapestries for the 
adornment of his palace, and he had ordered 
that they should be woven after a pattern he 
had shown in a mount. But as these weavers 
were very short-sighted, and had such stiff necks 
that they could not look up long enough to see 
anything clearly, he still had patience with them, 
and sent his son, who, living with the lowliest 
of them, wove, right by their side, a web' so 


WARP AND WOOF. 


55 


wonderful and glorious, that the king called it 
perfect, and gave orders that any web, showing 
traces of that pattern, should be immediately 
accepted, and that the happy weaver should 
have a most wonderful reward. 

The king himself provided a great many of 
the materials for this weaving, and this had 
often made a great deal of dissatisfaction, for, — 
without any apparent reason, — to some he would 
give golden threads, to others, silver, or purple 
and scarlet, and again it might be only fine 
twined linen. Then many of the weavers 
would say, — 

“ This is unjust. If I had the golden 
threads, my web should be clear as the sun, and 
should hang in the throne room of the king’s 
palace. 

And another would say, “ If I even had the 
silver threads, my web should be fair as the 
moon, and should be draped in the king’s audi- 
ence-chamber ; but, as I have only the linen 
thread, the web is so poor and grey I shall not 
try at all.” 

But, whether they would or no, they could not 
stop weaving. Consciously or unconsciously, 


56 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


the work always went on, and every day they 
added a length to their web. 

Now, although at first sight, it would seem as 
if the king were a little unjust, as these discon- 
tented subjects would have it appear, — if the 
weavers had only looked more closely, and stud- 
ied the different webs, they would have been 
wiser and happier. They would have seen that 
the king’s threads were not the only ones used 
in the weaving. There was an enemy always 
watching these busy looms, and cunningly con- 
triving to slip in a shuttle of his own, which 
never failed to disfigure the fairest woof. And 
they would have seen that, — while neglecting 
none, — of all the webs he loved the golden ones 
best, and visited them oftenest ; and if ever the 
weaver grew tired and careless, he was sure to 
throw in his ugliest thread, a thread of most 
fearful strength, a thread which, once caught in 
the weaving, it was almost impossible to break, 
for it was spun from a cord which had once been 
strong enough to drag a mighty angel down 
from Paradise ! And the worst of it was that, — 
this thread having been drawn in, — the enemy 
found it easier to slip in other and baser shutr 


WARP AND WOOF. 


57 


ties, till, at last, the unhappy weaver awoke to 
find his beautiful pattern hopelessly distorted 
and the work fit for nothing but the enemy’s 
banners. 

Some of the wisest weavers found this out 
after a time, and then they trembled a little, 
and were better contented with their lot. If 
their threads were very quiet and grey, they 
could follow the beautiful pattern just as well, 
and their eyes not being dazzled with the gold 
and purple and scarlet, they were able more 
quickly to see, and break off the false threads of 
the enemy. 

Besides, in one thing, the king had shown 
not the slightest partiality. Three threads he 
bad given, without any distinction, to all the 
weavers alike. And if they were willing to use 
them, especially the one which was greatest of 
the three, the web became beautiful in spite of 
all the enemy could do. It was strange that 
these weavers, knowing of this virtue, should 
ever have neglected these threads. But so it 
was. They seemed to find the shuttles too 
heavy ; they lifted them with the greatest effort, 
and sometimes let them lie idle for days to- 


58 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


gether. Then the king would turn away his 
head, for the webs were not fit to be seen. But 
even yet the case was not hopeless. If these 
weavers would yet take the day’s work to the 
door of the palace, and would petition the 
king to dip it in a wonderful fountain in his 
court, the gold would be pure and dazzling as 
if it burned in a furnace, and the linen webs 
shining, exceeding white as snow, so as no 
fuller on earth can white them. 

Still the unhappy weavers did not like to do 
this simple thing. They were very proud, and 
one of their number, who had been often to the 
palace had told them, — 

44 The door into the great king’s presence- 
chamber is very low ; one must go in on his 
knees.” 

And they said to one another, “ It is very 
hard to stoop.” 

Alas ! Alas ! for the king’s blind weavers ! 
Alas ! for the ruined webs which are now the 
enemy’s banners, which will never float in the 
golden light of the king’s palace ! 

‘ 4 And what does all that mean ? ” said Mar- 
garet. 44 1 always thought allegories, or what- 


WARP AND WOOF. 


59 


ever you call them, very stupid. I wish people 
would speak plain English.” 

“ Let us explain it to the child,” said Dick, 
patronizingly. 4 4 You and I are probably two 
of the king’s weavers, my dear, and our lives 
are the webs, I suppose. It isn’t a brand new 
idea, Vernon.” 

“No, but I just read it to-day, and it sets 
one thinking a little. Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ What are the golden threads?” asked 
Margaret. 

“ Money, I suppose,” said Bernard. 

“No, talents, genius, beauty,” said Carmen, 
eagerly. 

“ I think you’re both right,” said Vernon. 
“ Anything that sets one up in the world, gives 
rank, position, consequence, and makes a bril- 
liant life ; in short, makes one in such dangei 
from pride.” 

‘ 4 Ah ! that is the ugly thread, is it ? The 
enemy hands ’em a shuttle of pride,” laughed 
Dick. 44 That isn’t so bad. He doesn’t hand 
it twice to most people, that’s certain.” 

44 Well, I don’t think it is such a dreadful 
thing to have,” said Carmen, quickly. 44 1 


60 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


could never like a person who hadn’t a little 
pride.” 

“ Nor I either, if it’s the right kind,” said 
Vernon. “Every one should have a proper 
self-respect or he is good for nothing, to be 
sure ; but ” — 

“ Let me give my views,” interrupted Dick. 
“ Some one once said to somebody” — 

44 Luminous so far,” said Vernon. 

44 Some one once said to somebody,” persis- 
ted Dick, 44 4 Remember that you are as good as 
any body else, but no better .’ Now that pride 
that makes you feel, even in presence of an em- 
peror, that you are every inch a man, is the 
right kind ; and that pride that makes you 
think you are better, and wiser, and grander 
than almost anybody you meet, and makes you 
very glad to have it so, that’s the wrong kind, 
and ” — 

4 4 What are those three threads ? ” asked 
Margaret, languidly; 44 though I don’t know 
that I much care.” 

44 Why, faith, hope, and charity, of course,” 
said Carmen, a little contemptuously. 44 I 
should think you would have known when it 
spoke of the greatest of the three.” 


WARP AND WOOF. 


61 


“ Well, it doesn’t make any sense,” said Mar- 
garet, irritably. “A life wouldn’t be perfect 
with just charity in it.” 

“ It would if you take charity in the sense of 
love, and remember that all the law and com- 
mandments hang on love to God, and love to 
your fellow-men,” said Bernard. 

“ It means everything, then,” said Dick, rue- 
fully. “ No wonder the poor weavers thought 
the shuttle was heavy. I’m afraid I shan’t get 
much in my web.” 

“ I wish one didn’t have to choose,” said 
Helen, timidly. 

“ And I know whatever I choose it will be 
wrong,” said Margaret, disconsolately. 

“ And I shall never be contented, unless I 
have the golden threads,” said Carmen. 

“ Here is every variety of woof, I suppose 
we might call it,” laughed Bernard, “ but I 
suppose the right pattern could be woven on it 
all.” 

< « Everything must depend upon the threads 
that are chosen for the warp,” said Vernon. 

They were very quiet for a few minutes. 

“ What a splendid bed of coals !” cried Car- 


62 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


men, suddenly, “I wish a pudding would only 
come tumbling down the chimney, as it did in 
the fairy tale.” 

“ That reminds me,” said Dick, starting up 
as if he were galvanized. “Why, Carmen, 
we’ve come pretty near forgetting our last trick. 
Just the comfortablest, sociablest thing in the 
world ! ” he added, turning to the rest, and ex- 
plaining that Carmen was to stir up some grid- 
dle-cakes, and drop in a plain, gold ring — he 
would bake them — they would all have a feast, 
and he w r ho was so fortunate as to find the ring, 
would be the one set apart by Fate, to skim the 
cream off of every pan of milk, in the world ! 

“ In short,” Dick rounded off, magnificently, 
“ he will live in a palace, with the partner of 
his choice, a rainbow always in his sky, and a 
pot of gold at each end of it !” 

Dick’s proposal met with great approbation. 
They were all hungry. When are young peo- 
ple not hungry ? The idea of having a warm, 
comfortable meal, out of the regular hours, was 
delicious. 

Margaret and Carmen were soon stirring up 
the cakes, Helen set the table, Vernon and Ber- 


WARP AND WOOF. 


63 


nard drew out the deep, glowing, hickory 
coals, and fitted the griddle upon them, while 
Dick perseveringly picked the lock to the sugar 
closet. 

“This is none of mother’s work,” said Dick 
in some irritation, as the lock for a long time 
remained uncorruptible. “I declare, I don’t 
see how Aunt Ann is ever going to be happy in 
heaven, unless they give her a little cupboard, 
somewhere, where she can lock up things from 
the other angels.” 

But, at last, everything was got together. 
The baking was superintended by the whole 
party, and when the last spoonful had been 
browned and turned, they sat down to the ex- 
citing feast. Each one drew in turn, although 
there was keen scrutiny as the choice was made, 
the smooth cakes being passed with indifference, 
and an air-bubble or protuberant lump of flour, 
causing the unpretending flap-jack to rise far 
above par. The pile disappeared rapidly, but 
the ring vras not found. 

“ There is just enough to go around once 
more,” said* Bernard, “some one must get it 


now. 


64 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


. The plate came to Margaret. 

“ Help yourself first,” said she, with unusual 
politeness. 

Carmen saw that the top cake was hopelessly 
smooth, but took it with a curling lip. Mar- 
garet took the next, then Vernon, Bernard, 
Helen, Dick, — they were all gone. 

“ What an important moment ! ” said Dick, 
wiping his face. 

“ The eyes of Europe are upon us,” respond- 
ed Vernon, gravely, as he gave himself to the 
work of dissection. 

Carmen put up her handkerchief for an irre- 
sistible sneeze, and, as she recovered herself, 
was sure she discovered Margaret in the act of 
adroitly changing cakes. She had scarcely a 
doubt as she looked at the lumpy cake, left on 
her plate. 

“ I have it, I have it!” cried Margaret, in 
another minute, clapping her hands, and hold- 
ing up the little bright circlet, triumphantly. 

“ But you have it wrongfully,” said Carmen, 
‘ ‘ you changed with me ! ” 

Margaret colored violently. 

“ That is very ungenerous, Carmen,” said 
Bernard, while Vernon looked sorry. 


WARP AND WOOF. 


65 


Carmen turned appealingly to Dick. 

“I was looking so sharp at my own plate, ” 
said he, apologetically, “ I didn’t see anything 
else.” 

“ I thought I saw her,” faltered Carmen, who 
found herself on the losing side, “ but — 

“ But you have seen a great many strange 
things to-night,” said Margaret, recovering her- 
self . ‘ ‘ It was truly my own cake. For,” 
she added, to conscience, “I let Carmen take 
it out of turn, and then only changed my 
mind, (when she saw the little shimmer of gold) 
and took my own back again.” 

“Let us yield gracefully,” interrupted Ver- 
non, “ and congratulate Margaret, and con- 
gratulate ourselves, for, of course, we shall be 
invited to her castle, once a week, as long as we 
live.” 

“ Of course,” said Margaret, in high good 
humor. 

The old clock in the corner was ticking its 
loudest to warn them of the passing time. It 
was even holding up both hands in mute distress 
that nobody would remember it was nearly ten. 
The garden gate opened and shut unheeded. A 
5 


06 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


careful pair of feet was being duly polished upon 
the door-mat, and still they were unconscious. 

“I declare, Ann, our minister is the most 
highly eddicated man ” — 

The words fell upon them like “ a clap of 
thunder out of clear sky.” Dick, in utter con- 
sternation, hastily caught up the shovel and 
tongs, and deposited them carefully upon the 
pantry shelf. Carmen, whose self-possession 
seldom deserted her, flew to the door, and 
noiselessly slid the bolt. 

“ Quick, Helen,” said she, “ put the dishes 
in the table drawer.” 

There was a trial of the door followed by a 
loud knock, 

Yernon had carried the griddle into the back 
kitchen. 

“And the dish ran away with the spoon,” 
said Dick, bestowing them both under the 
cushion of Uncle Whitmore’s chair. 

There was another loud knock, followed by 
“ Children are you all asleep?” 

“ How childish this is,” said Bernard. “I 
am sure we have not been committing any cap- 
ital crime. Let them know all about it,”, and 
he hurried to the door. 


WARP AND WOOF. 


67 


“ Of course we shall tell Aunt Whitmore,” 
said Carmen, catching his coat, “ but do keep 
it from dear Aunt Ann, we can’t bear to grieve 
her, and” — 

The door was opened. Margaret and Helen, 
with nervous fingers, had just straightened the 
woolen cover upon the table, and the miserable 
Dick, thoroughly demoralized, had deposited 
the sugar-bowl in a corner of the wood-box. 

‘ ‘ Have you had a pleasant evening ? ” said 
Carmen, coming forward, and officiously helping 
Aunt Ann with her wraps. 

“ An uncommon nice time,” responded Aunt 
W r hitmore. “Ah, how d’ye do, Mr. Vernon; 
but your Uncle has scared up a bad headache,” 
she added, as Uncle Whitmore, bowing cour- 
teously, passed on to his room. 

“Like enough it was eatin’ two teas,” pur- 
sued Aunt Whitmore; “we didn’t know we 
was invited to tea, but sure enough, there it 
was, spread and waitin’ for us. Such muffins, 
Ann ! I declare, it seems to me as if I could 
smell them muffins yit ! ” 

A smothered giggle from Dick was like the 
toppling of the first brick in a row. One after 


68 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


another, in spite of every effort, became a prey 
to silent, internal convulsions. Only Carmen, 
conscious of Aunt Ann’s sharp eyes, remained 
preternaturally grave ; but this, of itself, was 
enough to arouse the good lady’s suspicions. 
She gave one sweeping glance around, taking in 
Dick, who was nearly drawn double, as he in- 
dustriously swept up the hearth. She saw 
nothing ; but if there was anything sharper than 
Aunt Ann’s eyes, it was her nose. The table- 
drawer did not tremble, the wood-box did not 
blush, nevertheless, after short consultation with 
her aquiline advance-guard, she marched straight 
upon them. The drawer was opened first, and 
Aunt Ann recoiled in tragic horror. 

“The best white china, Jane!” she an- 
nounced ; while the culprit, Helen, just real- 
izing the enormity of her crime, burst into 
tears. 

In the meantime, Aunt Whitmore had taken 
a seat in the easy chair ; although Dick, in an 
agony, had placed at least, three others in her 
way ; and finding some peculiarities in the 
feathers which had looked so plump and invi- 
ting, had drawn the batter-dish and spoon 
from their hiding-place. 


WARP AND WOOF. 


69 


44 This is Carmen’s work,” said Aunt Ann, 
grimly ; 4 4 there isn’t a doubt of it. If there 
ever was a child fully given over to evil ” — 
The little mother began to weep. 

But here Vernon, Bernard and Dick, came 
gallantly to the rescue, confessing all and more 
than their share, and asking forgiveness, which 
Aunt Whitmoi'e could never refuse to the most 
shallow penitent. 

But Aunt Ann, as she came to a full under- 
standing of the matter, shook her head in still 
greater condemnation. It was not so bad that 
they had had the little supper. If she had known 
they were so hungry she would gladly have 
stayed home, and made them all happy and 
comfortable. Carmen stole a glance at Dick, 
who shrugged his shoulders. 

4 4 But,” continued Aunt Ann, 44 that the 
children of Christian parents should have done 
anything so heathenish as to play these foolish 
and wicked tricks, — it is enough to bring evil 
and misfortune upon the house. Who thought 
of it first ? In whose head did the Evil one drop 
the first wicked seed ? ” 

44 In mine, I suppose,” said Carmen, smiling 
pleasantly. 


70 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ I knew it,” said Aunt Ann, with triumph ; 
“ and if you were my child” — 

“ Ann,” pleaded Aunt Whitmore, “ children 
will be children. I done just such things when 
I was a girl. Perhaps the Lord wasn’t pleased ; 
just as likely not ; but I think He knew it was 
meant for a bit of fun, and He would sooner 
forgive it, than if there had been wrangling and 
evil-speaking, and hard, unloving hearts.” 

“ The Lord probably doesn’t think stealing is 
as bad as murder,” said Aunt Ann, “ but that 
doesn’t make stealing right.” And firing this 
uncompromising gun, she retired victorious, in 
cover of the smoke. 

They all felt exceedingly uncomfortable, es- 
pecially on Vernon’s account, as he stood color- 
ing, and trying to stammer further apologies. 

“ Don’t say nothing more about it, children,” 
said Aunt Whitmore, her good heart expanding 
as Aunt Ann disappeared from view, “ I won’t 
say but what young people might have been 
doing something a great deal wiser and better, 
but I’m glad you’ve had a good time, and en- 
joyed yourselves.” She poured the hot water 
to wash the precious best china. 


WARP AND WOOF. 


71 


44 Mother,” said Dick, with a sounding boy- 
kiss on her still fresh cheek, 44 if you say it’s 
wrong, I’ll never play another Hallow Eve 
trick as long as I live.” 

But Aunt Whitmore forgot to answer ; her 
merry eyes being caught by Yernon, who, hav- 
ing possessed himself of the dish-towel, was 
wiping the thin plates as carefully as a girl, to 
her great delight and approbation. 

44 I declare,” said she, when everything had 
been nicely cleared away, and Yernon, with his 
happy smile and nod, was gone, 44 I couldn’t 
feel no nearer to that boy, if he was my own 
flesh and blood. That’s what I call a gentle- 
man, with not a bit of airs, as yon might expect 
to see in such a rich man’s son.” 

44 You’d never know he was a rich man’s son, 
down to the store, mother,” said Bernard. 
44 His father treats him just like the other clerks. 
He works just as hard, and has just the same 
salary as the rest of us, though they do say 
that next year his father will make him a 
kind of partner.” 

4 4 And how old will he be then ? ” 

44 He is just my age,” said Bernard, with a 
little sigh, as he lighted his bed-room candle. 


72 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


There was no allusion, the next day, to the 
misdemeanors of the night before. Aunt Ann 
had said her say, and she contented herself with 
enforcing the lesson upon the chief delinquent, 
by bringing from the village store, a new ribbon 
for Helen and Margaret, saying she did not 
have quite enough change to buy one for Car- 


men. 


CHAPTER III. 


BUSY LOOMS. 

ARGARET and Carmen were very 
unlike in appearance. Carmen had a 
pale, clear skin, with dark eyes and 
hair like her father’s, while Margaret 
was exceedingly fair. “You look like a lily 
by the side of your cousin Carmen,” Aunt Ann 
had once said in her partial fondness, and Mar- 
garet was greatly pleased with the comparison. 
A delicate, drooping lily ; she seldom had the 
idea out of her head. Perhaps this was the 
reason why she hung about Carmen, although 
they were always disagreeing. Sometimes, even, 
she entrusted her with some of her confidences, 
for Helen was a common-place little thing, who 
could not at all understand her vagaries, and if 
Carmen laughed at her, — as she was almost 
sure to do, — Margaret could always comfort 
( 73 ) 



74 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


herself with the idea that the ridicule proceeded 
from envy. 

She came into her cousin’s room on the morn- 
ing of her sixteenth birth-day. She was more 
than a year older than Carmen who would not 
be fifteen for a month. 

“ I suppose you have come for congratula- 
tions,” said Carmen, without looking up from 
the plaiting of her heavy hair. “There is a 
handkerchief for you. I have worked your 
name in the corner.” 

Margaret thanked her in a tone of patient 
suffering. 

“ What is the matter now?” asked Carmen, 
none too affectionately. 

“ ‘ All things grow sadder to me, one by 
one,’ ” quoted Margaret. 

“Nonsense!” said Carmen. “Isn’t Aunt 
Whitmore going to have cakes for breakfast ? ” 

“You know very well what I mean,” said 
Margaret, in an injured tone. 

“ ‘ The world is growing colder 
Every year, every year, 

And I feel I’m growing older, 

Every year.’ ” 

“ They do say the earth is cooling off all the 


BUSY LOOMS. 


75 


time,” said Carmen, as provokingly obtuse as 
she knew how to be. “Vernon was saying, 
last night, that in a few thousand years it would 
probably be one lump of ice. As for feeling 
you’re growing older, of course you do, or you’d 
be an idiot. I don’t see what you are driving 
at.” 

“How disagreeable you are, Carmen!” 
said Margaret. “ Sometimes I think I haven’t 
a friend in the world ; no one who understands 
me, and really cares to make me happy. 

Carmen looked significantly at her hands full 
of little gifts from the whole household; the 
pretty set of blue jewelry from her mother, the 
kid gloves from Bernard, the bottle of perfumery 
from Dick. 

Margaret understood her. “ Yes, they are 
very kind, Carmen, but I want sympathy. No 
one seems even to suspect how much I have to 
sadden me.” 

“O, yes, I do,” said Carmen. “There’s 
that spot on the front breadth of your poplin, 
but Aunt Whitmore thinks she can cut over the 
skirt, and leave that out. Then I know your 
last new shoes were too small. 


76 


ONE day’s weaving. 


“ They were not ! ” said Margaret, viciously ; 
“ they were too large, if anything. But I 
might better go and talk to the old cow in the 
barn, than expect you to understand ine. I 
came in to read you a little poem I had written 
on my birth-day, but I shall spare myself the 
mortification ; ” and Margaret went away in 
offended dignity. 

A little afterwards, as they met at the table 
Carmen smiled to see that, in spite of her woes, 
Margaret was able to do such ample justice to 
the breakfast, which was a little nicer than 
usual, in her honor. She never ventured to 
parade her sentiments before her sensible, prac- 
tical father. 

The morning passed busily, for Vernon and 
Mabel were to come to tea in the afternoon. 
Aunt Whitmore and the little mother early gave 
themselves to the concoction of dainties, and 
there was already an appetizing odor, when 
Dick, with cap and books, passed through the 
kitchen. 

“ You’d better not wait, Dicky,” said his 
mother, as he lingered, and looked in the oven. 
“ Them cakes won’t be done under half an hour. 
You’ll be late.” 


BUSY LOOMS. 


77 


“ ‘ Now Jack loved Christmas pies, 

But he loved (O how he loved!) to be wise. 

And wisdom comes not of itself,’ ” 

laughed Carmen, in sly enjoyment of his dis- 
comfiture. 

“ ‘ So dear mother, said Jack, 

Till from school I come back,’ 

put the rest of my seed-cake, and plum cake, 
and biscuit, and preserves on the shelf,” finished 
Dick, with a parting squeeze of his mother’s 
ample waist. 

“ That I will,” said Aunt Whitmore, looking 
after him, her whole plain face beautiful with 
affection. If she had a favorite, it was Dick. 

And now Margaret and Carmen swept and 
dusted, and garnished the parlor with greens and 
scarlet berries, failing after all to make it look 
half so comfortable as the old sitting-room, half 
kitchen as it was, with its wide chimney and 
cosey corners. But the Hammonds always re- 
ceived company in their parlors, and Margaret 
and Carmen had great yearnings for gentility. 

Carmen also went from time to time to inspect 
with great satisfaction the array upon the pantry 
shelf, the custards, the flaky biscuits, flanking 


78 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


the generous frosted fruit cake, a perfect Mont 
Blanc, with snow upon its head. She had not 
yet passed the age when it was pleasant to put 
in one’s thumb and pull out a plum. 

“ What a child you are, Carmen,” sighed 
Margaret, from a corner, where she had retired 
to add a last suicidal verse to her birth-day 
poem. 

The afternoon passed unhappily, as Carmen, 
after sighing over her little box of faded ribbons, 
tried on the blue merino, only to find it too 
short in the waist. Perhaps by employing every 
moment of daylight, she might make a girdle to 
4 hide the defect, and very cross and impatient 
she sat down to work. She had just pieced 
something wrong side out, and found that her 
trimming was an inch or two short, when Jack, 
a poor little moth, to whom Carmen was always 
a shining candle in a golden candle-stick, drew 
near, and singed her dear little wings. 

“ What are you making, Carmen?” said she. 

“ A pair of pantaloons for you, Jack,” re- 
sponded Carmen, impatiently. 

Jack, who had lately begun to awaken to 
womanly instincts, colored up to her poor little 


BUSY LOOMS. 


79 


ears. It was getting to be quite disgraceful to be 
so mistaken ; and she hastened, with a swelling 
heart, to find her patch-work and small thimble, 
with which she seated herself at Carmen’s feet. 

Carmen very well understood the mute appeal. 
Jack hoped she would say, as she sometimes 
did,— 

“ Well, I may be mistaken after all. Boys 
don’t sew. It is just possible Jack is a girl ! ” 

But now Carmen refused to be touched, even 
when two big tears of disappointment rolled 
down Jacky’s cheeks, at the failure of her little 
ruse. Carmen’s eyes were dim with her own 
troubles; and so Dick found them both, when, 
at last, he came rushing in like a pleasant west 
wind, driving all clouds from the sky. 

“My afflicted young relatives!” cried he, 
running up to wipe their eyes, with officious ten- 
derness. “ My brother Jack, you surprise me ; 
this is unmanly ! And Carmen, why are you 
not arrayed for the banquet. I declare every- 
thing is left for me. Must I dress the child 
myself? Bring me some water to wash her 
face, Jack ; ” and catching her up, in spite of 
struggles and entreaties, he carried her to her 


room. 


80 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ I will dress myself, please,” laughed Car- 
men, “ But I sha’n’t look nice at all.” 

“Yes you will; you can’t help it,” said 
Dick, emphatically. 

“ Nobody else thinks so but you,” said Car- 
men. “ What makes you like me, Dick? ” 

4 ‘ I’m sure I don’t know, unless it’s because 
you are always in hot water, some way, and 
I’ve been scalded so often myself. Then I 
think I like your great eyes, Carmen, and your 
funny dimples, and I like to see you when you 
get so angry, inside , you know, and speak so 
cold and slow to Aunt Ann.” 

“ How do you know I am angry then? ” 

“ O, you can’t deceive me,” said Dick, “I 
know when you’re all on fire. You can’t 
keep it all in, it burns through on your cheeks, 
and leaves two red-hot coals that don’t go out 
for hours. You look gay, though, Carmen, I 
can tell you! But I must go and put on a 
clean collar.” 

When Carmen came down stairs, Margaret 
and Bernard were standing in the faint light of 
the western parlor window, while Margaret was 
reading something in a very low voice. 


BUSY LOOMS. 


81 


Dick was peeping from behind the curtain, 
like the imp that he was. He beckoned to Car- 
men, in an ecstasy, and she stole softly to his 
side. It was the birth-day poem, and they had 
reached the last verse. Margaret read with 
great feeling, 

“ If years must still, like troubled dreams, 

Pass with so few of joy’s bright gleams, 

If disappointments cloud each day — ” 

(Dick rubbed his knuckles in his eyes,) 

“ And loved ones pass from earth away” — 

(“ Muff s last batch of kittens, drowned, you 
know,” interpolated Dick.) 

But now came the climax in a tremulous 
voice. 

“ I would not live thus full of tears, 

Another weary sixteen years I ” 

Dick gave a most startling wail, and threw 
himself upon Margaret’s neck. 

“ O, my loveliest sister I my angel!” he 
cried, with pretended sobs, “ don’t, don't say that 
you are going to leave us ! ” 

“You’re a brute, Dick!” cried Margaret, 


6 


82 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


bursting into real tears, “ and you, too, Car- 
men,” she added, as she was stealing away, with 
her handkerchief in her mouth. “ Bernard, 
was there ever anything so mean, so dishonora- 
ble?” she sobbed, passionately. 

Bernard looked very grave, although there 
was a slight twitching of his mouth. 

“ It certainly was dishonorable,” said he, 
“ and if Carmen and Dick do not make an im- 
mediate apology, I shall be very much disap- 
pointed in them.” 

Dick, nothing loth, immediately dropped upon 
his knees. He had committed a great indiscre- 
tion, his only excuse was that he was extrava- 
gantly fond of poetry, especially when it was pa- 
thetic — he had known trials himself — ” 

“ That won’t do, Dick,” said Bernard, as 
Margaret’s sobs grew louder, “ if you have’nt 
any better heart — ” 

“ Well, I really was not to blame,” said 
Dick. Here are the real culprits, that stole 
what wasn’t meant for them,” and he took hold 
of his big ears. 

“ Ah, we will punish them, then,” said Ber- 
nard, and he gave them such a hearty twig, 


BUSY LOOMS. 


83 


that, though Dick bore it manfully, they were 
red for the rest of the evening. 

44 And now for Carmen,” said Bernard. 

“ Pull ’em again for her,” said Dick, rue- 
fully. 

But Carmen came up with a very creditable 
appearance of penitence. 

“ I am sorry, Margaret,” she said. 

44 Prove it then, by going away, both of you, 
and never alluding to the subject again,” said 
Bernard. 

They went away quite crest-fallen, but as 
Carmen, in the next room, tried to busy herself 
with a book, she, now and then, caught some 
of Bernard’s wise, gentle words. 

44 The verses are not bad at all, Margaret, 
but they would suit sixty years a great deal 
better than sixteen. It doesn’t seem quite right 
and grateful to feel so, when your life is just be- 
ginning, and you have hardly known anything 
but happiness and comfort. It seems as if it 
must be grieving our Father so, to mourn over 
imaginary troubles, while He is continually 
crowning our lives with his goodness.” 

Margaret did not altogether relish these plain 


84 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


truths ; but in the midst, the long expected 
guests arrived, and all private griefs and resent- 
ments were put away till a more convenient 
season. 

It was now, for the first time, that Aunt 
Ann’s eyes fell upon Carmen’s dress, and dis- 
covered, with great indignation, that a gold 
chain was ostentatiously paraded over the plain, 
blue merino. This chain, which was of curious 
and delicate workmanship, had once belonged 
to Carmen’s great-grandmother. It had come 
from that far dim land of castles, over the sea, 
and was, Carmen thought, the last relic of the 
greatness which should have been hers. No 
words could describe the charm it had for her, 
and, on those rare occasions when her mother 
had shown it to her, Carmen, taking it in her 
hands, would dream over it for an hour at a 
time, wondering how many times it had rested 
against silk and satin, while little white hands 
had drawn it through fingers heavy with dia- 
monds and pearls. It had now a locket upon 
it, in which was a picture of her father, when 
he was a little fair-haired baby. This had been 
long promised to Carmen, when she was old 


BUSY LOOMS. 


85 


enough to wear it, but upon this particular even- 
ing, she had so importuned for it, that the weak 
little mother had not known how to refuse. It 
was drawn from its hiding-place, and hung 
about her neck, while her heart was filled al- 
most to bursting with gratified pride. Every 
defect was covered now, she thought. She 
would not have exchanged with Solomon in his 
glorv, nor with the king’s daughter in clothing 
of wrought gold, with raiment of needle-work. 

But Aunt Ann did not find an opportunity 
to speak of it, till the gay young people were 
summoned from the parlor to take their seats at 
the cheerful table. 

“I3 this,” whispered she, coming behind 
Carmen, “ is this the ornament of a meek and 
quiet spirit ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” returned Carmen, flippantly, 
“ it may be, but I don’t think it was bought 
for that.” 

Aunt Ann sat down trembling with indigna- 
tion, and really, at the bottom of her heart, 
grieved at what she thought the girl’s utter 
hardness and depravity. 

But Carmen was in fine spirits ; her pride had 


86 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


received a new impulse. She looked around the 
table, thinking, witji great complacency, that she 
was superior to every one there, unless it might 
be Vernon and Mabel. Sl\£ was the descend- 
ant of a grand old family, she thought, and 
blood always tells. She did not know whether 
she was handsome ; she had not made up her 
mind about that ; every one called Margaret 
pretty, and she was not in the least like Marga- 
ret, but she was very sure she had what the 
little dress-maker, Miss Ravlin, called style , and 
any discerning person could see her superiority 
as easily as they could tell a fruit from a vege- 
table. Indeed, it was an idea of hers that the 
aristocracy, as she called them, corresponded to 
fruit, and the common people to vegetables. A 
basket of radishes, squashes and pumpkins 
might be brighter scarlet and gold, but how 

different from the soft tints and finished shading 

o 

of a basket of peaches and pears ! 

But to return. After the supper, and when 
they had all gathered around the great fire, which 
was voted so much pleasanter than going back 
to the stiff, unattractive parlor, — Dick an- 
nounced that he had a game to propose. 


BUSY LOOMS. 


87 


“ Every one who has a good conscience,” 
said he, “ will like it very much ; but those who 
have anything to conceal, are warned not to en- 
gage in it. It is called the ( Confessional,’ and 
in the course of the game every one of your 
hearts will be turned wrong side out, without 
your being in the least able to help yourselves ! ” 

“ That sounds very alarming, Dick,” said 
Vernon, “but you have aroused our curiosity, 
I think we must venture to try it.” 

Dick took out of his pocket two bundles of 
small slips of card-board, one of which he pro- 
ceeded to distribute. There was about a half 
dozen apiece, and on each slip was written a 
number. 

“Now, father,” said Dick, handing Uncle 
Whitmore a pencil, “ will you please make a 
list of our names, and write down each one’s 
confession as it comes out.” 

He then opened the second little bundle. 

“ There are sixty cards in each,” he explained, 
“ and these are duplicates of the ones I have 
given you. I have numbered them just alike. 
Now I am going to ask a question about some- 
thing we all want to know, and as I ask it, I 


88 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


shall lay down one of my cards, and whoever 
has the corresponding number will have to 
answer, — no, will be the one who does the 
thing, — no, I mean the one who is” — 

Yernon and Bernard began to applaud. 

44 I always get in such a tangle,” said poor 
Dick, desperately. 44 Well, I’ll just begin, and 
then you’ll see. Now, who is the most conceited 
person in this room?” He laid down a card, 
announcing, 4 4 Ten, who has ten?” 

44 I have ten,” said Margaret, innocently. 
44 What am I to do with it? ” 

44 Nothing,” cried Dick, clapping his hands. 
44 You’ve made your confession, that’s all. 
Father, write it down. Margaret is the most 
conceited of us all ! ” 

Margaret colored, and was half inclined to be 
angry. 

“Never mind,” said Yernon, who began to 
understand it. 44 You will soon have a chance 
to laugh at some one else.” 

44 Yes,” said Dick, 44 revenge yourself, Mar- 
garet. It is your turn to ask the next question.” 

44 Who is the most heartless, the most regard- 
less of other people’s feelings ? ” asked Margaret, 
quickly. 


BUSY LOOMS. 


89 


“ Fifteen,” announced Dick, turning up a 
card, and shrugginghis shoulders. “ I suppose 
it should be I.” 

“ No,” said Carmen, “ I have fifteen. I am 
that monster, it appears.” 

44 And many a true word spoken in jest,” 
whispered Aunt Ann, at her back. 

Carmen looked serenely unconscious. 4 4 And 
who has the most heart, is the most self-sacri- 
ficing and kind ? ” she asked. 

44 Seven,” said Dick. 

There was a little pause ; no one seemed able 
to find it. 

44 Come, old fellow,” cried Dick, rightly read- 
ing the flush on Vernon’s face. 44 No mock 
modesty ! Put it down to Vernon, father, and 
it’s just right too ! ” 

44 That it is!” said Aunt Whitmore, and 
there was an approving murmur from every- 
body. 

“Who couldn’t tell a lie?” asked Vernon, 
quickly. 

44 Three,” cried Dick. 44 Why, I declare it’s 
myself! George Washington and I; we 
couldn’t tell a lie ; but now, who could ? 
Seventeen.” 


90 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


I could,” said Carmen, just a little reluc- 
tantly, controlling her face with greater diffi- 
culty as, the second time, she heard at her ear, — 
“ And many a true word spoken in jest.” 

“I declare,” said the faithful Dick, raising 
his hands in pretended admiration. “ What is 
there that Carmen can’t do ! ” 

“ That is to say,” laughed Yernon, “ that her 
gifts are so great that even this almost impossi- 
ble thing may become possible to Aer.” 

“I don’t know what you young folks air a 
drivin’ at,” said Aunt Whitmore, “ but I hope 
nobody is makin’ light of a lie. I hope Carmen 
would never say anything but ” — 

“Never!” interposed Carmen, vehemently, 
feeling the fire, of which Dick spoke, beginning 
to burn through her cheeks. “ I hope I have 
too much pride for that ! ” 

“ It had better be too much principle,” said 
Uncle Whitmore, gently. 

Carmen caught sight of Margaret, smiling 
quietly to herself. 

“ Who rejoices in a brother’s fall? ” said she, 
pointedly. But, behold, the confession came 
from poor Bernard. 


BUSY LOOMS. 


91 


u Never,” said Vernon, 44 unless it is that he 
may have an opportunity to pick him up.” 

< ‘ Who loves honor better than life ? ” asked 
Bernard, quite unruffled. 

“Twenty-nine,” said Dick, and Vernon laid 
it upon the table. 

“You may think me very conceited,” said 
he, the color coming and going in his frank 
young face, 44 but I believe I do. I do not 
think I should care to live if I had done any- 
thing dishonorable.” 

“ Nor I ! ” said Carmen, warmly. 

Why would Aunt Ann look at her, with eyes 
that seemejl to be reading her very secret soul. 

6i That reminds me,” said Dick, “ have you 
heard about Joe Warner? You know he went 
into Mr. Egerton’s store, about a month ago, 
and one day, when he was alone, he made a 
large sale of nearly fifty dollars, and put the 
money in his pocket ! Of course the buyer met 
Mr. Egerton, and made some allusion to it, — 
such things are sure to come out, and now 
Mr. Joe is in jail, and I -guess it will be a bad 
business for him.” 

44 Don’t speak so, Dicky,” said tender-hearted 


92 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Aunt Whitmore. “ Poor young tiling ! I sup- 
pose his life is ruined.” 

“ And it ought to be,” said Carmen, “ if he 
could do such a thing as that.” 

“ I can’t help feeling sorry for him, though,” 
said Vernon thoughtfully, “ I don’t think he 
realized what he was doing. You see his father 
was poor, and when Joe was going to Mr. Eg- 
erton’s, and was very anxious to look nice and 
neat, there could not be anything spared for his 
outfit. So Joe ordered himself a new suit of 
clothes, for which he intended to pay as he 
earned the money. But the tailor was very 
angry when he found he must wait, and grew 
more impatient every day, till, at last, he made 
J oe’s life so wretched with his threats and im- 
portunities, that he could not resist the tempta- 
tion of taking this money to pay him. I know 
he fully intended to replace it little by little.” 

‘ ‘ But w T hat a mistake he made about the 
clothes,” said Bernard. How much nobler 
he would have looked and felt in his old suit, if 
he had only known it.” 

“ But that’s just where the enemy threw in 
his shuttle of pride,” said Dick. 


BUSY LOOMS. 


93 


“ Yes, and almost worse, the shuttle of cow- 
ardice followed after,” said Vernon. 

“ The other clerk was suspected first, and 
Joe never said a word,” explained Dick to his 
father. 

“ How perfectly base !” cried Carmen. 

“ And yet he isn’t hardened, poor fellow,” 
said Vernon. “ He is very weak, but — .” 

“One has no right to be weak; such weak- 
ness is a crime !” said Carmen. 

“Let him that standeth — ” began Uncle 
Whitmore, in a low tone. 

Carmen would not let him finish. “ I know 
what you mean, Uncle Whitmore,” she cried, 
“ but when I fall in that way, I shall ask no 
one to pity me.” 

“ Carmen, m y dear child!” cried the little 
mother, in genuine distress. 

“ Is thy servant a dog?” began Aunt Ann. 

“ Why mother, why Aunt Ann,” said Car- 
men, half crying, and rising to her feet, in her 
excitement. “How can you say such things to 
me ! I am descended from a very grand and 
honorable family, though * everything now is 
lost but honor,’” she added, magnificently, 


94 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


4 4 Do you think I could ever so far forget 
myself — ” 

Uncle Whitmore smiled provokingly, and 
Dick, coming behind her, drew her gently back 
in her seat. 

44 Come Countess,” said he, 44 there is no use 
dreaming you are in marble halls, when you are 
only in Uncle Whitmore’s old kitchen.” 

Every one laughed, while proud Carmen, 
feeling that she had been laying herself open to 
ridicule, struggled hard to become cold and calm. 

44 Now don’t be angry, Carmen,” pleaded 
Dick. 44 Of course we all believe in those 
grand Spanish ancestors, and know there 
wouldn’t one of them take even a spoonful of 
soup, if he couldn’t pay for it in gold.” 

44 Don’t turn against me, Dick,” said Carmen. 
44 But answer me honestly, don’t you think you, 
yourself, could die> sooner than take a mouthful 
that didn’t belong to you ?” 

Dick shook his head in humble doubt. 44 I 
haven’t tried dying, Carmen, but I never yet 
could do anything on an empty stomach.” 

Again the laugh was against her. 

44 Come, Carmen,” said Vernon, 44 let’s con- 


BUSY LOOMS. 


95 


fess that we’re made out of the same kind of 
dust as other people, not a bit cleaner; and then 
everybody will be satisfied, and we will go on 
with the game.” 

“ Very well,” said Carmen, “ and Joe War- 
ner, is just as good as any of us ; we wouldn’t 
feel at all disgraced if he were a near relation — 
Vernon’s brother, for instance.” 

“Indeed I should,” said Vernon, quickly. 
“ I am only afraid that, in God’s sight, there is 
not enough difference between us to leave any 
room for pride. Still, I confess,” said he, 
thoughtfully, “ I don’t think I shall ever feel 
the same towards him again. Such a person 
could never be very near to me. My pity and 
help, he should always have, but I could never 
feel for him that fullest confidence and respect 
that I must give to my friend.” 

How many times, afterwards, Carmen re- 
membered these words ! 

“ And yet,” said Uncle Whitmore, “ one of 
the noblest men I ever knew had committed a 
very grave error in his youth. Through these 
fires of temptation, not always unscathed, I 
think the Lord often leads those whom he is fit- 


96 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


ting for his chosen sons of consolation. No one 
has such broad charity as he, who knows from 
his own experience how easy it is to go astray. 
I remember this friend leading back many a 
wandering soul, with a pity and tenderness, 
which was something wonderful.” 

Dick gave a heavy sigh, and Margaret hung 
her head listlessly. 

“ Come, come,” said Aunt Whitmore, “ this 
talk is too grave for the children. Let them go 
on with their game.” 

“ Yes, ” said Vernon, “Is it my turn to ask? 
“ Who does every one think is the prettiest? ” 

It was Margaret, who did indeed look very 
pretty, with her rose-colored ribbons, and the 
pleased flush in her face. 

“A most unnecessary question,” said Vernon, 
bowing gallantly. * 

Carmen’s spirits had ebbed very fast during 
the last half-hour. 

A few more questions, and the cards were all 
thrown down, and then Uncle Whitmore read 
the record. 

“Vernon Hammond has the best heart, loves 
honor better than life, thinks himself rather fine- 
looking. 


BUSY LOOMS. 


97 


“ Margaret, most conceited, prettiest and the 
greatest bore. 

“ Carmen, most heartless, most censorious, 
can tell a lie, &c., &c.” 

It was rather amusing as they were all read 
off, but, after a good laugh over each other’s 
enforced confessions, no one seemed inclined to 
try it again. 

Then Aunt Whitmore brought in the gener- 
ous supply of apples and nuts, and with stories 
and conundrums, with spelling of their favorite’s 
names in apple-seeds, — in laughter, chatter and 
happiness, the birthday passed away. 

It was some time, however, after every thing 
was still; and the old shoe had ceased from the 
slightest creaking, before Carmen could compose 
herself to rest. It was not only because Dick 
had said on the way up stairs, — 

“ I can’t help liking you, Carmen, but you’ve 
been a kind of a goose to-night ; ” but she felt 
that it had been an unhappy day, and she 
couldn’t quite disguise from herself the reason 
why. She wished they hadn’t made any allu- 
sion to those webs and shuttles again. The 
subject annoyed Tier, for she could not help 
7 


98 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


thinking that ugly, coarse threads of envy and 
pride, and impatience, had been caught in her 
work that day, a perfect tangle of weaving. 
She wished, for a minute, that she could tear it 
out of her life ; and then, the thought came to 
her, with a little fright, that mortal hands might 
weave the web, but mortal strength could not 
destroy it. 

“ Pshaw ! ” exclaimed Carmen, “ how stupid 
I am ! One would say it was Aunt Ann herself. 
Young people might be thinking of something 
pleasanter.” And resolutely turning away her 
thoughts, Carmen at last fell asleep, trying to 
decide what she should do if she had a hundred 
dollars ; whether she should buy a velvet cloak, 
or a watch, or a pair of gold bracelets? 


CHAPTER IV. 


yernon’s web. 


HE winter passed monotonously enough. 
Carmen found her chief pleasure — 
next to being a thorn for Aunt Ann, — 
in the French lessons which Vernon 
was giving to herself and Margaret. He came 
twice a week, and these were always hours of 
triumph for Carmen. She was naturally very 
much quicker than Margaret. What was pain- 
ful toil for the one, was only a pleasing excite- 
ment for the other ; and Carmen’s heart swelled 
with pride, when, as very often happened, her 
young teacher could not conceal his astonish- 
ment at her progress. Carmen knew nothing 
more delicious than proving herself superior to 
those around her. There was no happiness like 
it. It was the main-spring of her life ; all that 
made it endurable. Heaven appeared to her 
such an unattractive place. There could be no 
( 99 ) ? 


100 


ONE day’s WEAVING. 


ambitions or delightful rivalries there. If one 
angel saw into the mechanism of a star quicker 
than another angel, he couldn’t be a bit proud 
over it, or have any of those delicious little 
thrills of conscious power ; angel number one 
must never look down upon angel number two. 

n ft 

Even Gabriel couldn’t exult when he swept by 
Lazarus and the Thief. 

“ It must be very dull in heaven,” she said to 
Dick, as, standing in the door, they talked it 
over, one lovely evening in late Spring. “What 
is there to interest one, or make one care ever 
to make the slightest effort. I am sure if 1 
ever get there, it won’t make the least difference 
to me whether I am standing next the Throne, 
or at the foot of the very last golden street.” 

Dick rubbed his head in perplexity. 

“ I know you’re wrong, some way, Carmen, 
but — but — ah, here comes Bernard,” said he, 
with an expression of great relief ; and running 
to meet him at the gate, he unfolded the matter 
as they came up the path. 

* ‘ What an earthly idea of heaven ! ” said 
Bernard, smiling a little. “ So Carmen thinks 
she would be happier if she could carry all her 


yernon’s web. 


101 


mean little jealousies and heart-burnings with 
her? As if we could ever be thankful enough 
to leave them behind ! And as for being dull, 
— why, Carmen, we can’t begin to imagine the 
interest and sweet excitement of heaven. Such 
knowledge before us, and we so eager to learn ! 
Such delight in reaching higher places ; not 
that we may look down upon some one else, but 
because we are drawing nearer to God. That 
will be the happiness of heaven ; always coming 
a little nearer, and understanding Him a little 
better. Always happy, you know, but always 
growing happier.” 

“ Well, I can’t understand it,” said Carmen, 
discontentedly. “ I can’t make it seem any- 
thing but cold and uninteresting compared to 
this life. There are so many splendid things to 
reach after here ! O, Bernard, you can’t begin 
to know how I feel sometimes. I do so want 
to be rich, and famous, and grand ! I should 
always be very kind and charitable, you know ; 
but wouldn’t it be delicious to be able to look 
down on almost every-body with a kind of grand 
scorn ? And I think I shall some day — I shall 
be somebody yet, I feel it in me, Bernard. O, 
I must, and I will ! ” 


102 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Bernard smiled. “ ‘ Heart, heart lie still,’ ” 
said he, patting her shoulder. 

“ ‘ I can’t lie still, 

Beat strong I will ! ’ ” 

finished Carmen, excitedly. 

“ Yes, Carmen’s heart always will,” said he, 
a little gravely. “ How splendid, if it were 
only beating right ! ” 

“I’ve had forty lectures already to-day,” 
pouted Carmen. “ Thirty-seven from Aunt 
Ann, and one from each of the other heads of 
the family ; so don’t ” — 

“ Who wants to take a walk down by the 
river?” cried a voice; “the sunset is won- 
derful ; ” and Yernon Hammond’s pleasant face 
looked over the gate. 

Bernard excused himself, but the rest gladly 
assented, and they set out immediately. Mar- 
garet walking with Yernon, as usual, and Car- 
men, behind, with Dick. 

“ What a good fellow he is,” whispered Dick, 
pointing to Yernon, as they walked along. “ I 
never knew, till a day or two ago, the whole 
story about Joe Warner. You know the mat- 


vernon’s web. 


103 


ter was suddenly hushed up, and Joe was dis- 
charged, — well, I have just found out that 
Vernon paid the whole debt, costs and every- 
thing, out of his own money ; and his father 
don’t allow him anything more than his salary, 
you know.” 

44 That accounts,” said Carmen, thoughtfully. 
4 4 I’ve thought so many times this winter that 
he was growing careless about his boots and 
gloves, but this explains it.” 

44 And then, that isn’t all, you know,” said 
Dick, 44 when all the other boys rather cut Joe, 
that curious Vernon, — half obstinate, I some- 
times think, — just took him up, asked him to 
his room, lent him books, and, in short, couldn’t 
have done more for a friend.” 

4 4 1 suppose he thinks he is going to reform 
him. How foolish ! I wish he would be more 
particular about his associates, but he must 
always be taking hold of some dirty hand. 
When do you suppose he will ever learn to be 
like other people ? ” 

Never, I hope ! ” said Dick, emphatically ; 
and Carmen’s heart echoed the words, in spite 
of her. Who was there who was not attracted 


104 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


to Yernon, and did not discover something 
singularly lovely and rare in his character ? 

“To tell the truth,” continued Dick, “I 
believe I admire him more than any one in the 
world, always excepting you,” he laughed. 
“ And I should try to be just like him, if I 
didn’t think you’d all call me a pocket edition of 
him, and I rather prefer being an original vol- 
ume.” 

“And a very curious volume, too,” laughed 
Carmen, “ Title, — 4 The old Adam, with illus- 
trations by the young Dick.’ But it’s enter- 
taining. I wouldn’t change a page of it I ” 
said she, giving his arm a squeeze. 

“Hush!” said Dick, putting up his finger. 
“Here’s a chance for improving our minds. 
There’s some very elevating conversation going 
on ahead of us.” 

Carmen looked at their companions. Mar- 
garet was talking with most unusual animation, 
and Yernon was listening with the courteous 
manner so peculiarly his own. No matter how 
absurd or trifling the conversation, she thought, 
he would bend his head with that same grave 
attention, which is always such a delicate flat- 


vernon’s web. 


105 


tery. But perhaps he did not think Margaret 
absurd. Perhaps he was truly admiring her, 
for her cheeks were very pretty and pink, and 
she was professing the most elevated aims and 
aspirations. Carmen could not tell, as she 
listened with the little curl on her lip. Mar- 
garet had been speaking of Longfellow’s Excel- 
sior. She could so well understand the spirit 
of the hero of that poem, she said. Her heart 
had long been yearning for something higher, 
and there was so little in ordinary life to sat- 
isfy its cravings. She was so sure to be disap- 
pointed in everything that she hoped would give 
her pleasure. 

“ The biscuits were heavy to-night,” mur- 
mured Dick. 

And now, the unconscious Margaret con- 
tinued, she felt such an ambition for something 
nobler. She longed to climb, no matter what 
difficulties were in the way, no matter what 
privations she had to endure ; she could cheer- 
fully give up earthly happiness for these higher 
aims, and even turn from home and friends as 
that hero did. 

“ In happy homes he saw the light,” 
she began to quote, but here her memory failed her. 


106 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ He saw the light — he saw the light,” — 
she repeated. 

Dick stole a little nearer, with a dangerous 
twinkle in his eye. 

“I’ll help you, Mag,” said he. “This is 
what you are after : — 

“ ‘ He saw through the windows, as he kept getting upper, 
A number of families sitting at supper. 

But he eyed the slippery rocks very keen, 

And he fled as he cried, and cried while a fleein’, 

Higher ! ’” 

‘ ‘ What a brutal parody ! ” cried the discom- 
fited Margaret, while a merry smile ran over 
Vernon’s face, dodging the quick gravity which 
gave chase to it. 

“And Mag,” cried the provoking Dick, 

‘ ‘ don’t try to be climbing away from your affec- 
tionate family. These ambitious youths are sure 
to come to some bad end. I don’t think Long- 
fellow meant to encourage it. Do you remem- 
ber the last verse ? 

“ ‘ Yes, lifeless, defunct, without any doubt, 

The lamp of his bein’ decidedly out. 

On the dreary hill-side the youth was a layin’, 

And there was no more use for him to be sayin’ 

Higher ! ’ ” 


yernon’s web. 


107 


“ Ah, think of it Mag ! No more use. O, 
if it should ever be my precious sister ! ” and 
Dick, wiping his eyes, prepared to throw himself 
upon Margaret’s neck, with a gush of brotherly 
affection. 

“What a clown you are, Dick!” cried 
Yernon, interposing, and receiving the unwel- 
come embrace. “If I were Margaret, you 
should have salt in your coffee, to-morrow.” 

Margaret turned to Carmen. “ You put it 
in his head,” she whispered. “You saw that 
I was talking well, and you wanted to make me 
ridiculous. You just made up these horrid 
verses between you.” 

“ I wish we had been clever enough to do it,” 
said Carmen, “but you are mistaken, as you 
always are. Dick found it in a newspaper a 
week ago, and I had nothing to do with it. If 
you really don’t want to be ridiculous, you had 
better laugh as the rest do, and be good- 
natured.” 

Whether Margaret would have taken the ad- 
vice is doubtful, but just then a diversion oc- 
curred in the shape of Joe Warner’s little 
brother. 


108 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“Here’s a letter for you, Mr. Vernon,” said 
he. “Joe said ‘take it to-morrow morning,’ 
but here you are, and I shan’t have the long 
walk.” 

“All right,” said Vernon, taking it, and 
opening it carelessly ; but, as he read it, his 
face flushed, and he uttered an exclamation. 

“ What is it?” cried Dick. “ No bad news 
I hope.” 

“No — that is to say — yes. Well, take it 
Dick. You may as well read it, and laugh at 
me.” 

And Dick read : — 

“ Dear, simple, old prig. You’ve been very grand and 
generous, I suppose, and nobody, but the Whitmores, and 
a few dozen other of your most intimate friends, knows 
anything about it. But you’ve made a mistake trying to 
help a fellow like me. There are times when every brand 
plucked from the burning, longs to be blazing away again. 
It has come over me now. I can’t stand this any longer. 
I’m going off to seek my fortune. 

“ 0, Vernon, why would you leave your watch on the 
bureau, this afternoon ! I tried not to see it, but I couldn’t 
help it. You’ve tried me too far. You’ll never see it 
again. Jake will hand this to you to-morrow when I shall 
be far away. Good-bye, I know I’m a wretch. 

“Joe Warner.” 


yernon’s web. 


109 


Dick looked quite bewildered at the idea of 
such ingratitude and baseness. 

“ Was that your beautiful Geneva watch, 
that your father sent for, last Christmas ? ” asked 
Margaret. 

Vernon nodded his head absently. “ What 
had I better do, Dick?” said he. “ This note 
is received sooner than he expected, and gives 
me an advantage. I might catch him yet in the 
city, if he were going off in any of the evening 
trains.” • 

They were just come in sight of the river, 
looking so sweet and peaceful, the opposite fields 
standing dressed in living green, and the spires 
and domes of the great town so transfigured in 
the evening light, that it seemed almost like a 
vision of the Heavenly City. They all paused a 
moment in involuntary admiration. 

Suddenly, Dick caught Vernon’s arm, and 
pointed to a little boat rocking on the golden 
water. 

“ If I am not greatly mistaken,” said he, 
“ there is Joe Warner this very minute, in that 
boat with old Jimmy ! He is just going over 
now; we shall catch him! Wait a minute, 


110 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Jinrtmy’s wife will tell me where to get a boat ; ” 
and Dick plunged headlong up the bank. 

In the meantime there seemed to be some 
angry discussion going on between Joe and the 
boatman. Loud, passionate tones came over 
the water, and at last the two stood up and 
grappled each other. 

‘ ‘ They would be wiser to fight it out on dry 
land,” said Vernon, as the little boat rocked 
wildly. 

It was growing very exciting. 

“They will be drowned 1 ” cried Carmen, 
grasping Vernon’s arm. 

“ They will have a chance to get cooled off, 
certainly,” said he, “ but probably they both 
can swim.” 

They soon were obliged to try, for, as Joe 
'Warner, — who was evidently trying to throw 
old Jimmy overboard, — suddenly exerted all 
his strength to accomplish that end, he lost his 
balance, and they both went over together. 

Margaret screamed as they disappeared, but, 
after one breathless moment, the two heads 
again rose above the surface. One struck out 
boldly for the boat, reached it, sprang in, and 


vernon’s web. 


Ill 


rowed vigorously to shore. This was old 
Jimmy. The other did but little more than 
keep himself afloat. 

“Why don’t you take him in, Jimmy?” 
cried Vernon, when the boatman came in hail- 
ing distance. 

“ Never,” cried the old man. “ Let him 
save himself, or if he drowns, it’ll be the best 
thing he ever did since he was borned. He’3 got 
your watch on, Mister Vernon, I knowed it the 
minute I seed it, and then I wouldn’t take him 
no furder, and, the dog, he ” — 

“ But he’s going down, Jimmy,” said Car- 
men, half crying. “ O, it’s dreadful to see any 
one die ! ” 

“ Never you fear, Miss,” said the old man, 
as his boat shot swiftly by. “That’s only one 
of his mean dodges ; I know him ! He’ll be up 
again in a minute. You couldn’t drown him , 
he’ll live to be hung ; ” and Jimmy laughed 
hoarsely at the stale jest. 

“ But truly, Jimmy,” urged Vernon, “ let me 
take your boat. There is more danger than 
you think. I remember he was always a cow- 
ard in the water, — he is getting frightened.” 


112 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ Let him have a good scare, — he was 
willin’ to drown me ; ” and the angry old man 
shot swiftly around a projecting rock out of 
sight. 

Vernon threw off his coat and boots. 

“ Don’t go after him, mister,” cried one of 
Jimmy’s shock-headed sons, who had just 
arrived upon the scene of action, but whose 
sharp, round eyes took in everything at a glance. 
“ If that’s Joe Warner, he’ll drown you, cer- 
tain ; no drownin’ person has any sense, — they 
just catch you anywheres, arms or legs, and pin 
you fast, as helpless as a mummy I ” 

“ O, don’t go, Vernon!” cried Carmen, 
catching his arms. 

He unclasped her hands hastily, almost 
rudely, and, springing into the water, struck 
out vigorously for the drowning boy. 

“Ain’t that a splendid stroke!” cried Bill, 
admiringly. “ Now if Joe would only rest his 
arm on his back, — he knows better than to 
catch at the feet or hands, but he’s such a tarnal 
coward ! O, it’s awful dangerous, Miss Car- 
men, to try to save a drownin’ person ! There, 
I knew it ! he’s dragged him under ! Hit him 


VERS OK'S WEB. 


113 


in the head ! stun the varmint — it’s your only 
chance ! ” cried Bill. But Yernon didn’t seem 
to hear. 

Margaret sat down, her face ashy white, her 
teeth chattering. 

“Get a boat, get a boat quick, from some- 
where!” cried Carmen to Bill. “How can 
you stand there gaping ! ” and the boy van- 
ished, screaming for help. 

It seemed such an age to Carmen, before the 
waves parted again, and Yernon’s head ap- 
peared. He was making the most painful effort, 
she could see. He was not so very far from 
land, but he was swimming with only one hand, 
— the other was pinioned, held tighter than a 
vice, in the death-clasp of that worthless wretch, 
Joe Warner. There ! they were going down 
again, and so near, Carmen could see the desper- 
ate, imploring look in Yernon’s beautiful violet 
eyes. She gasped, as if she were going under 
with them. O, would Dick never come ! would 
nobody come till it was too late ! Could it be 
possible that Yernon might drown ? Why, they 
were laughing and joking only such a few min- 


114 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


utes ago. Would a merciful God permit such 
an awful thing? 

Once more Yernon appeared, and he was very 
near the shore, but he seemed completely ex- 
hausted, — his hand moved feebly, and he made 
no progress. 

Carmen crept close to the river’s edge, and 
then shrank away, shivering, as she felt the cold 
chill at her feet. She had always had a mortal 
terror of the water. There was a long, loose 
board lying on the shore. Carmen looked at it, 
— lifted it. If she could only get it to him — 
if she could only swim ! She looked back at 
Yernon. There was a little whirlpool and rip- 
ple where his head had been ! With a quick 
cry she stumbled forward, and then everything 
was bewilderment and chaos. The very next 
thing she clearly remembered, Dick was stand- 
ing by her side, with his arm around her, while 
she was shivering, — wet and dripping from 
head to foot. Quite a crowd of people were 
gathering. Some were rubbing and rolling the 
unconscious Joe Warner, and old Jimmy’s wife 
was pouring brandy down Yernon’s throat, as 
he leaned against a tree, — very white, with 
blue lines around his mouth. 


VERNONS WEB. 


115 


“ Where have I been, Dick?” said Carmen, 
looking in a bewildered way at her clinging 
garments. 

Dick laughed. “ I thought you didn’t know 
what you were about. Why, Carmen, you 
were out in the river nearly up to your neck ! 
I’m sure I don’t know what for, — girls are 
always doing such ridiculous things but 
Dick, nevertheless, gave her an affectionate 
squeeze. “ You see there was no use in being 
so frightened. Vernon had managed to get a 
floating board under his arm, and he could have 
held out a long time with that, — till help came, 
at least.” 

“ Here’s a wagon, Mister Vernon,” said the 
repentant old Jimmy. “ You’d better jump in, 
and git home quick, and git into yer dry 
clothes.” 

Vernon quietly put aside the officious hands, 
and came towards Carmen and Dick. 

“ She pushed that board to me, Dick,” said 
Vernon, “ and saved my life. I do not think 
I could have kept up another minute without it. 
Thank you, Carmen.” 

Three simple words, but she knew he meant 
them, and it was better than volumes. 


116 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ I always just miss distinguishing myself,” 
said Dick, dolefully, “ but it’s something to be 
first cousin to a heroine ; ” and he tucked Car- 
men under his arm, to walk home. 

“ I will walk too, thank you, Jimmy,” said 
Vernon. “ A little exercise will better keep 
off the chills.” 

They walked on briskly together, but hardly 
a word was said. Twice, in answer to Dick’-s 
questions, Vernon began to tell how he felt 
when he went down that last time, but he could 
never finish it. 

* 

Some rumors of the adventure had already 
reached the old red farm-house, and Aunt Ann 
and the little mother were standing anxiously in 
the door. 

“How pale she looks!” said Aunt Ann, 
taking Margaret’s hand ; “ you must come right 
here by the fire, and change everything. So 
you went right out in the river to save him, my 
noble child ! That was just like the Whit- 
mores.” 

Margaret burst into tears. 

“ It wasn’t Margaret, Aunt Ann,” said 
Dick ; “it was Carmen.” 


vernon’s web. 


117 


“ 0h 9 it was Carmen!” said Aunt Ann, 
slowly, such discomfiture in her face, and such 
sudden chill in her tone, that disrespectful Car- 
men laughed outright. 

And now from being an act of heroism, 
Carmen’s adventure, in Aunt Ann’s eyes, grad- 
ually took shape of mere foolhardiness and 
light-minded folly. With an eye of growing 
disapprobation she watched, — while Aunt 
Whitmore and the little mother bustled about 
with dry flannels, — for some legitimate object 
of indignation. 

“ Of course she had on her best shoes ! ” she 
cried, at last, holding up the soaked boots from 
which all form and comeliness was gone for- 
ever. “ She never took any care of them. I 
suppose she thinks there will be plenty more 
growing on the currant bushes, maybe ! ” 

“ O, isn’t she imaginative ! ” whispered Dick. 

“ If there is anything crazy and headlong,” 
pursued Aunt Ann, “ you may be sure, Carmen 
will do it. There never was more foolishness 
bound up in the heart of a child, — and Lucy, 
you’ve been too sparing of the rod of correction. 
I’m not sure that she’s too old for it yet. I 


118 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


should like to know what Matthew Henry says 
on that text. If I am ever rich, I shall buy those 
Commentaries, and settle my mind on a good 
many points that have been troubling me.” 

Poor Aunt Ann ! the possession of this val- 
uable work was her sole earthly ambition ; but, 
scrimp as she might, she had never yet been 
able to see her way clear to buy it. Poverty 
was the angel, always waving his sword around 
this tree of knowledge. She had a vague com- 
fort sometimes, in the idea that she should pos- 
sess it in the Millennium. Every one would, 
probably, have a copy then, she thought. It 
was some time to wait, but Aunt Ann had done 
a great deal of waiting in her lonely old life ; 
she was used to it. 

But now neighbors came in, and called the 
older members away to the parlor. Carmen sat 
dry and comfortable by the fire, sipping her 
warm tea. She felt very much pleased with 
herself. 

“So, Carmen,” said Dick, “ there was one 
golden thread portioned out to this family to- 
day, and you were the lucky one to get it for 
your web.” 


vernon’s web. 


119 


“ Yes,” thought Carmen, complacently, tak- 
ing up the shuttle of pride, and going on with 
the ceaseless weaving. “I have done a good 
piece of work to-day. This length of web will 
not need to be dipped and purified.” And she 
thought with pleasure of the contrast between 
herself and Margaret, — Margaret who had 
gone up stairs to sob and cry because there had 
been such a mortifying difference between her 
grand professions and the actual deeds, when 
the moment of trial came. 

Carmen sat very thoughtful, while little Jack, 
crawling into Dick’s lap, besought his assistance 
in the removal of a stumbling-block which had 
tripped her little feet at the very entrance of the 
gate of knowledge. 

“ Why is it, Dicky,” she asked, “ that the 
baby letters don’t look like the grown up let- 
ters ? ” Little s was a good letter, she ex- 
plained, and so was little w, but little g, and 
little q, and little r, were so hopelessly unlike 
their mammas. 

Dick entered into a long disquisition upon the 
original sin and total depravity of these wicked 
little letters, who wanted to make as^ much 


120 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


trouble as possible, till poor Jack sat quite 
stunned if not enlightened, — which often an- 
swers the same purpose in this world. 

After a while, Margaret stole back again, 
in the twilight, and sat very drearily in the 
shadow of the chimney. 

“ What do you suppose,” said Dick, break- 
ing a long silence. “ What do you suppose 
made Vernon do that, to-night, — jump into 
that cold river, and risk his life for a good-for- 
nothing fellow, who had just given him such a 
mean cut?” 

“ Why, he went after his beautiful Geneva 
watch, didn’t he?” said Margaret — “you 
know Jimmy told him Joe had it on.” 

“Mag!” said Dick, starting to his feet, 
“ what a fool — I am ! ” finished he, giving a 
discreet turn to his sentence. “Now that never 
occurred to me.” 

“Didn’t it?” said Margaret, with returning 
complacency, “ what did you think? ” 

‘ 4 1 thought he did it because he’s the noblest 
fellow in all the world, and because,” — Dick 
lowered his voice, “ I may as well say it, be- 
cause he’s a Christian ! I don’t quite understand 


vernon’s web. 


121 


it myself; but this being a Christian, the way 
Vernon is, is a grand sort of a thing. It makes 
a man a hero, in my opinion.” 

But Vernon is never afraid of anything,” said 
Carmen. “ Christian or not, I think he would 
have gone after Joe.” 

6 6 Maybe,” said Dick. “ But Joe Warner 
was a good way out, and Vernon knew enough 
about drowning people, to know it was dread- 
fully dangerous to go after the heavy, lumbering 
coward. If I had been in his place, I should 
just have thought, — now there isn’t one chance 
in a hundred that I could bring him in. What’s 
the use of losing two lives instead of one? 
Then I should have contented myself with rurf- 
ning for a boat, and I wouldn’t have spared 
myself giving him a good desperate rub, if I 
caught him before he was drowned. But as for 
striking out for him all alone, — I should have 
been afraid. And Vernon was too, I know he 
was. He Jcnew it was a terrible risk, he knew 
just what he was doing. He thought it every 
bit over, in his clear head, I know he did, and 
then he made up his mind. Wasn’t that grand, 
Carmen ! ” 


122 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Carmen felt a little dissatisfied. Her own 
good deed had been nothing but an impulse, 
generous it might be, but it looked very small 
in this new light. She was very careful how- 
ever, not to suggest this to any one else. 

“ And I suppose this is the thread of love,” 
she said, at last, “ love to your fellow-man.” 

“It was more, Carmen,” said Dick, emphat- 
ically, “ it was the whole heavy shuttle. It 
must have been love to God, too, oi*he never 
would have done it.” 

Jack’s round eyes had been fixed on Dick’s 
face through all this enthusiastic eulogy. A 
little, timid question squeezed into the first gap 
in the conversation. 

“Do you think Vernon likes me?” she 
asked, wistfully. 

“ Well, some, probably,” said Dick, care- 
lessly, “ as well as one boy can like another.” 

Jack’s lip quivered. She would so like to 
have Vernon think she was a girl. But she 
said nothing. Poor Jack had already learned 
that nobody took much interest in the April 
ripple of her little duck-pond of a heart. 

“ Sometimes, Carmen,” said Dick, pursuing 


yernon’s web. 


123 


his own thoughts, “ I’m afraid I’m getting 
spooney. You don’t know how it comes over 
me that I would like to be a little better. I do 
hate dreadfully to be * good,’ though.” 

“ No one will think of doubting that state- 
ment,” laughed Carmen. 

“Yes,” said Dick, “I hate it so ; I never 
met .but one other person who hated it more, 
and that was” — 

“ Aunt Ann ! ” interposed Carmen. 

“ Carmen!” finished Dick, emphatically. 


CHAPTER Y. 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 

T was several days before Yernon came 
down to the farm-house again, and even 
then he looked pale, and did not like to 
have any one allude to the frightful 
struggle in the water. Joe Warner had recov- 
ered, and left town very quietly, nobody knew 
when, or how; but the night after the accident, 
a package containing the Geneva watch had 
mysteriously found its way to Yernon’s room. 
There was not a word of explanation with it. 

After this little excitement, the summer passed 
very much as the winter had done, only that, 
now, the in-door work could be varied by an oc- 
casional hour’s weeding in the strawberry bed. 
But this met with small favor from Carmen or 
Margaret, who much preferred sitting with their 
sewing, — the endless household linen, or the 
new set of shirts for Uncle Whitmore, — while 
( 124 ) 



CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


125 


one built her castles in Spain, and the other 
sighed, and composed her despondent verses. 

Sometimes there was an oasis for Carmen, 
when they went to spend the evening with 
Mabel Hammond, — and Yernon, — sitting down 
to the organ, — would play the wonderful music, 
which always made the tears roll down Carmen’s 
cheeks, while Margaret looked at her curiously, 
with a smile of compassion. The two cousins 
were certainly at opposite poles. One could 
never dunce to the other’s piping, — if one wept, 
the other was sure to laugh. Nevertheless, in 
the long, sultry days of late summer, — when 
the Hammonds had gone to some cool resort by 
the sea, and even Bernard and Dick had taken 
stout sticks, and started on a pedestrian tour to 
some neighboring mountains, — they cultivated 
a sort of toleration for each other. And on 
days when Carmen was most depressed, between 
the sad cricket chirps, and the long, shrill song 
of the locust, she could listen to a recital of 
“ Tears, idle tears,” or an original poem, cheer- 
fully picturing the heart as a cemetery of buried 
hopes, — with a gravity which filled Margaret’s 
heart with ecstasy. 


126 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


One sole pleasure Carmen had for the bright- 
ening of these dreary weeks, and that was, 
daily, over the plain muslin or gingham, to 
loop up the glittering lengths of the Spanish 
chain. She had also begged from her mother, 
almost her only ornament — a little opal ring, 
— and regularly, after the morning’s rougher 
work was finished, the little heart of fire, would 
be burning away on Carmen’s brown hand. 

Again and again Aunt Ann, bringing her 
mending, would sit down by Carmen’s ^ide to 
sigh over her folly. 

“You may depend,” she said, one day, 
‘ ‘ this foolish pride will yet bring you into great 
disgrace. You needn’t sweep your eyes down 
on me, in such a grand way, — they’re very big 
no doubt, and maybe you think they’re hand- 
some, — but they’re no more to me , than if they 
were as green as Muff’s I O, these gew-gaws I 
these gew-gaws ! ” she said, reverting to the 
original theme, as her eye swept from ring to 
chain. 

4 ‘ Did you never care for any such thing, 
Aunt Ann?” said Carmen. 

“Never! Jewels to me are gaudy toys, 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


127 


and gold is sordid dust I I hate them. I wish 
I might never see anything of the kind again ! ” 
44 What ! never see the New Jerusalem, Aunt 
Ann?” cried Carmen, in pretended horror. 

4 4 What do you mean now ? ” said the poor 
lady, wary of falling in an ambush. 44 Wkat 
has that got to do with the subject ? ” 

“ 4 And the foundations of the city were jasper, 
and sapphire, and emerald,’ ” said the perverse 
Carmen, 4 4 4 and every gate a single pearl.’ ” 

44 That is very wicked and irreverent, Car- 
men,” said Aunt Ann, truly shocked. 44 If I 
had Henry’s Commentaries, I could read you 
just what the apostle meant.. But you know 
better. A child of your instruction could never 
believe that heaven was really all pearls and 
gold like a fairy story.” 

“No, Aunt Ann, but I suppose St. John, in 
describing Heaven, tried to compare it to the 
most beautiful and precious things he knew. 
And I think it is very unfortunate for people to 
hate them, for then I suppose they can’t have 
any patience with the description. But I shall 
never think it is wrong for me to like them, as 
long as St. John thought they were beautiful 
too.” 


128 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


( ‘ But they weren’t so precious that he could 
barter his soul for them,” said Aunt Ann, in 
deep emotion. “I — I — but,” said she, pre- 
tending to hear a call from the kitchen, “ we 
will finish this some other time ; ” and shaking 
he* head despairingly, poor Aunt Ann hastened 
away. 

Carmen smiled quietly to her wilful self, and 
was about returning to her air castles, when 
Uncle Whitmore, — who had been working 
unseen just under the window, — raised his 
head.” 

“ So Carmen is wearing this,” said he, taking 
hold of the unfortunate chain, “ to remind her 
of the streets of shining gold; “ and this,” he 
touched the little spark of fire on her finger, 
“ that she may always bear in mind the wonder- 
ful foundations of the holy City.” 

Carmen blushed under the penetrating grey 
eyes. 

“We shall expect a great deal more from 
her, now that we know her reasons for wearinor 
them,” he added, quietly, and walked away 
without another word. 

Carmen’s cheeks burned for an hour after- 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


129 


wards. Not that the gentle reproof did her any 
good. Long before her cheeks were cool, she 
was dreaming again of gratified vanity and pride. 
She even lifted the chain and kissed it, not at all 
that it was a symbol, but that she loved it for 
its own bright, glittering self. 

With the first frosts of Autumn, the Ham- 
monds came home, and life began to be more 
interesting. But, what made even more of a 
change at the farm-house, was the arrival of 
Aunt Bosina, half sister to Uncle Whitmore, 
Aunt Ann, and the little mother. There had 
been very little intercourse between them for 
years, as Aunt Bosina had lived with her own 
only brother in a far distant city, and, — leading 
a very gay life, — had taken but slight interest in 
the welfare of her plainer relations. But lat- 
terly she had thought much of them, during a se- 
rious fit of illness, and she had taken it into her 
restless head that a winter spent in the country 
might restore the health lost in the late hours 
and dissipation of fashionable life. Accordingly 
6hc came, — a fussy, dressy, little person, who 
had once been pretty, and still believed herself 
bo, bringing a rustle and swish of silk into the 


9 


130 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


old farm-house, which Margaret and Carmen 
thought the most charming sound in the world. 

Uncle Whitmore regarded this new inmate 
with small favor, and would often look very 
grave as the two girls appeared after a morning 
spent in her room. The fact was, Aunt 
Rosina’s dresses and jewelry were perfectly won- 
derful to girls who had seen so little of life a3 
Margaret and Carmen. They thought the 
wardrobe of an empress could hardly have been 
more grand, and it was several days before their 
eyes began to be satisfied with seeing the blue 
silk, and the brown, and the purple, and most 
beautiful of all, — Carmen thought, — the green 
silk, with its elaborate city trimmings. Then 
there were the pretty sets of jewelry, of garnet 
and pearl, of fringed gold and the soft rose 
coral. Aunt Rosina let Carmen try them on 
one day, in a fit of extreme good-nature, and 
the girl was astonished, and charmed with the 
effect. She stood looking at herself in the 
glass, till a derisive laugh brought her to her 
senses. 

“ I do believe you think yoq are pretty 1 ” 
said Marga«et, 


\ 



rv — - 








CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


131 


. “ She is not bad looking,” said Aunt Rosina, 
turning her to the light. “ Those ear-rings are 
vastly becoming. I don’t think I’ve fairly 
looked at you before, child ; with a little more 
dress, you would be almost — I don’t know but 
quite — beautiful ! ” 

Margaret looked gloomy. She had always 
been thought to absorb all the beauty of the 
family, and now Aunt Rosina hadn’t even no- 
ticed her. 

But the words were like a revelation to Car- 
men, and she stole away to her room, and 
locked the door, that she might look at herself 
undisturbed. How could she have been so 
blind I she thought, as she smiled back again at 
the vision of dimples and scarlet cheeks. 

“ I should be beautiful,” she murmured to 
herself, “if I only had more dress ! ” and she 
fell into a brown study, trying to contrive how 
she should procure these adornments, and make 
herself the envy of every one who beheld her. 

“ I shall contrive some way to get them,” 
said Carmen, “ for I am certainly clever as well 
as beautiful. Two of the golden threads have 
certainly been given me,” she thought, tri- 


132 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


umphantly,” and I needn’t trouble myself trying^ 
to be good. I shall be admired and envied, no 
matter what I do. I shall make even the good 
people envy me.” And she took up her little 
Bible, sadly covered with dust, to find a few 
words which she had often read with a strange 
excitement. 

“ Behold the Assyrian was a cedar in Leb- 
. anon,” she read, “ with fair branches, and with 
a shadowing shroud, and of a high stature ; and 
his top was among the thick boughs. * * * 

The cedars in the garden of God could not hide 
him : the fir-trees were not like his boughs, and 
the chestnut-trees were not like his branches ; 
nor any tree in the garden of God was like unto 
him in his beauty. I have made him fair by the 
multitude of his branches ; so that all the trees 
of Eden, that were in the garden of God, en- 
vied him.” 

Carmen’s breath came short and quick. She 
always loved to read this passage, for, she 
would say to herself, — 

“ I shall be the cedar in Lebanon, with fair 
branches, and a high stature. The fir-trees, — 
stiff Aunt Ann, — can never be like my boughs, 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


133 


and the chestnut-trees, — simple, placid Aunt 
Whitmore and Margaret, — can never be like 
my branches ! ” 

To be sure, there was Yernon, whom she 
could not help admiring, — he was certainly a 
cedar in the garden of God, so good — so very 
good ! But what use of disquieting herself about 
his superiority in that one respect ? What need 
of fretting that she was not patient, and humble 
and self-sacrificing, when she could make her- 
self so attractive without these tiresome virtues ? 
She should have a brilliant life — what could 
be better than that ! so exalted, that even Ver- 
non should not be able to hide her, — he should 
admire her, in spite of himself. Yes, all the 
trees of Eden, that were in the garden of God, 
should envy her ! 

Thus Carmen deliberately made her choice. 
The shuttle of pride was the best, — so flaming 
and gorgeous, — and she pushed aside the dis- 
tasteful shuttle of charity — the love that 
“ vaunteth not itself, — is not easily puffed 
up.” 

Twice Carmen’s mother called her in vain, 
and only Aunt Ann’s step upon the stairs, at 


134 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


last recalled her to her senses. She was wanted 
for some distasteful household duty, she sup- 
posed, although she was thankful it could no 
longer be the churning. Since Aunt Rosin a 
had come, with her invalidism, — requiring such 
continual waiting upon, — they had been forced 
to keep a servant ; and now, Riga, a rosy young 
German girl, did all the rougher work, and 
added greatly to the gentility of the establish- 
ment, in Margaret’s and Carmen’s opinion. 

But there was always enough to do, and Car- 
men ran down, none too good-naturedly. At 
the foot of the stairs she stumbled upon Dick. 

“ I was just coming to find you,” said he. 
“ Yernon has lent me such a capital book, and 
he wants me to read it aloud ” — but, looking 
up at her, he suddenly stopped, took her two 
cheeks in his hands, and turned her to the light. 

“ How pretty you are!” said he. “ Why 
Carmen, how pretty you are ! ” 

Carmen laughed at his earnestness. 

‘ ‘ What has happened to you ? ” he contin- 
ued. “ Will this come off?” and he rubbed 
his finger over her burning cheek. “ And your 
eyes, Carmen, how they shine! Why, you 
never looked so before ! ” 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


135 


“Of course, I change as I grow older,” 
laughed Carmen. “I am no longer a child. 
I shall soon be a woman. Don’t you know I 
am almost sixteen? ” 

“ And the little green bud is opening into a 
dear, scarlet rose,” said Dick, with an extrava- 
gant bow. 

“ Let me feel your hands, v said Carmen, 
with an air of great alarm at this flight of fancy 
in common-sense Dick. “Just as I expected, 
you are feverish. You must have a lump of 
ice on your head.” 

“ Well, the little black kernel of corn has 
popped, then,” laughed Dick, “ if you think 
that sounds any more rational. But, Carmen, 
you haven’t the least idea how you look to-day ! ” 

Hadn't she ? Carmen felt a pleasant thrill at 
this confirmation of her own judgment. 

“Why, yes,” pursued Dick, “Margaret 
isn’t any more beside you, than ashes by fire. 
And you have such an air, I almost begin to 
believe there were countesses in your family.” 

“ I should have an air, as you call it,” said 
Carmen, “if I ever had anything to wear. 
What do you think, Dick, — mother says, if 


136 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


she gets me a new bonnet and cloak, I must 
actually keep that old blue merino for my best 
dress another whole winter ! ” The tears were 
in Carmen’s eyes. 

Warm-hearted Dick looked very sober. 
44 You always look pretty to me,” said he, “ but 
I suppose you would be quite wonderful in what 
ladies call 44 full dress.” I would like to see 
you once all in shiny silk, with lots of that thin 
fol-de-rol, what do they call it, lace? that does 
for a dress just what mist does for Indian 
Summer. 

Carmen sighed, heavily. 

44 You ought to have something, too, that’s a 
fact ; for, some time this winter, — about the 
time Vernon’s father takes him into partnership, 
the Hammonds are going to give a grand party. 
Mabel told me so.” 

44 Well, I shall either have to stay at home, 
or go in my blue merino,” said Carmen, 
despondently. 

44 When I’m once through with my studies, 
Carmen, I’ll work night and day for you I You 
shall have everything you want,” said Dick, 
vehemently. 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


137 


44 But I shan’t want anything but a pair of 
spectacles and a snuff-box by that time,” said 
Carmen, with a little laugh. 

44 To lie suie, it is a great while,” assented 
Dick, mournfully. 

44 O, why wasn’t I born an heiress?” sighed 
Carmen. “Listen, Dick, this is the kind of 
life I ought to have had ; ” and she pulled a 
trashy novel, — which she had found in the 
garret, — out of her pocket, where she kept it 
in hiding. 

“ 4 The lady Angela,’” she read, 4 4 4 went 
into her boudoir, hung with rose-colored satin. 
She pressed a silver bell, and her maid, entering 
noiselessly, stood ready to attire her for the fete, 
as soon as her mistress could decide between the 
costly and magnificent robes that were scattered 
in elegant confusion through the apartment. 
There lay the glossy satins, rose, violet and blue, 
half hidden by the rich drapery of the canopied 
bed. Upon sofas and chairs were displayed 
marvellous crimson and emerald velvets, adorned 
with lace of priceless value, and sparkling with 
gems, any one of which might have been a 
monarch’s ransom ! But the lady Angela, 


138 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


nursed in the lap of luxury, viewed them all 
with a languid eye. Nothing could quite satisfy 
the exquisite taste of the heiress of Plumer Hall. 
Full an hour did the well- trained servant stand 
motionless, awaiting the lady’s commands. 

“ ‘ Bring me the violet velvet, with my 
pearls, at last said ’ ” — 

“ The poor, dying worm ! ” cried Aunt Ann, 
the words falling like a bomb-shell, as she swept 
down upon the startled pair, carrying off the 
book, which, in another minute, was blazing on 
the kitchen fire. 

Carmen had not finished the story, — she was 
anxious to know whether Adolphus had thought 
Angela an angel in the violet velvet, and now, 
as the precious information shrivelled away from 
her forever, she could have cried with rage. But 
why give Aunt Ann the satisfaction of knowing 
it? Carmen smiled, and hummed a little tune 
as she went to her work. 

“ What a girl you are, Carmen ! ” whispered 
the admiring Dick. “ You’re so quick. No 
one can get behind your face any more than if 
it was a mask.” 

“ Don’t you remember what we read once?” 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


139 


said Carmen. “ ‘If you cry when you are 
hurt, you only show your enemy where to hit 
next time.’ ” And this was the secret spring of 
most of Carmen’s self-control. 

Uncle and Aunt Whitmore were going to the 
city that afternoon, and just before they started, 
Jack brought them a letter which seemed to be 
a very strange affair. Uncle Whitmore read it 
through twice, and then, with a curious smile, 
announced that some unknown friend had dis- 
covered that two of the young people of his 
family had not been treated with half the favor 
and distinction their merits deserved. 

“ This stranger remarks,” said Uncle Whit- 
more, that Dick, — a young fellow of great tal- 
ent, and altogether his favorite of all the boys 
he has ever seen, — is very much, in need of a 
new suit of clothes, and in default of these, he 
would even be much encouraged by a silk neck- 
tie, favorite color, blue. Also that Carmen, a 
most industrious and deserving young person, 
is in the most pressing need of a silk dress,” 
Uncle Whitmore gave a low whistle, “ but if 
nothing handsome enough in that line, could be 
found in the city, a pair of kid gloves with two 


140 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


or three fresh ribbons, would greatly cheer a 
heart, which, with the noblest aspirations, had 
hitherto been forced to throb beneath the plain- 
est of brown calico. Signed — A friend to the 
oppressed ! ” 

“ Dear me,” said Aunt Whitmore, with her 
usual simplicity, “ who can it be ! Don’t you 
think it’s jest a leetle impudent, father?” 

“ I certainly do,” said Uncle Whitmore, a 
twinkle in his eye, nevertheless. “ But the 
worst of it is, Dick seems to be falling off so in 
his hand-writing, I never knew him to write as 
badly as this.” 

Every one stared a minute, and then there 
was a burst of laughter, during which the modest, 
disinterested friend of the family disappeared, 
only pausing to whisper, — 

“ It may do some good, after all, Carmen.” 

But when they returned at night with the 
purchases, Dick presided at the unfolding with 
a gradually lengthening face. There was a silk 
dress for Margaret, “ The first one she ever 
had you know,” said Aunt Whitmore apologeti- 
cally, “ and she is older than you, Carmen.” 
There was a new bonnet for Helen, and a pair 


CHOOSING SHUTTLES. 


141 


of shoes for Jack, but where was the suit for the 
deserving Dick, aud the ribbons for the aspiring 
heart of Carmen ? 

“ Goods is so high,” said Aunt Whit- 
more again, with a deprecating look at Dick, 
“ and Margaret’s dress jest melted the money 
right away. Next time it shall be your turn, 
sonny, when father sells the potatoes, may be.” 

“ What’s the matter now?” cried Aunt Ann, 
“ I hope Carmen and Dick are not finding fault 
with their clothes. Aren’t they whole and 
clean, and fit to stand before the king? If they 
can’t be satisfied and thankful, you had better 
send them to bed, Jane, and let them lie there, 
till they come to a better mind. 

“ « Some she gave broth, and some she gave 
bread, and the rest she whipped soundly and 
send them to bed,’” murmured Dick. “It is 
just as you say, Carmen, there are too many of 
us in the old shoe ; the broth and the bread 
can’t possibly go ’round , and you and I are al- 
ways unlucky, we’re always sure to be ‘ the 
rest: ” 


CHAPTER VI. 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 

HE weeks rolled around, the time drew 
near for the great party at the Ham- 
mond’s ; but Carmen, with all her clever- 
ness, had not been able to make those 
additions to her wardrobe which she had hoped 
would make her beautiful and envied upon that 
grand occasion. It had so occupied her 
thoughts, almost night and day since she first 
heard of it, that she looked with astonishment 
and some irritation upon the coolness of the 
older members of the family. Uncle Whitmore 
who, some time before, in a fit of speculation, 
had invested some of his scanty funds in West- 
ern lands, went out to look after his property, 
the very day before the party. Aunt Whitmore 
and Aunt Ann, and the little mother, frightened 
at the very idea of finding themselves in such a 
gay crowd, decided at once not to go, and then 
( 142 ) 




ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


143 


hardly gave the subject another thought. Aunt 
Rosina, to be sure, was in quite an excitement 
about it, and for a week beforehand held a daily 
review of all her dresses, calling in Margaret 
and Carmen again, and again, to help her de- 
cide which would make the greatest sensation, 
and be most apt to impress upon the company a 
proper idea of her importance. This was like 
the feast of Tantalus to Carmen, — to see, day 
after day, such a number of beautiful dresses, 
any one of which would have made her so 
happy, and to feel, as she smoothed their rich 
folds that they could do her no good, that they 
were no nearer to her , hanging on the pegs of 
Aunt Rosina’s closet, than if they dangled from 
the horn of one of Saturn’s moons. 

“ It is too bad ! ” said the sympathising Dick, 
meeting her one day, as she came out, wiping 
away the tears she had been careful to conceal 
till she thought she was alone. 

“ I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking of, 
Carmen ; why wouldn’t Aunt Rosina lend you 
a dress? I know it would fit you, for you are 
just of a height. I’ll ask her this minute ! ” and 
before Carmen could stop him, he had rushed 


144 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


into Aunt Rosina’s room, and was making his 
startling proposition. 

Aunt Rosina grew a shade yellower, if that 
were possible. 

“ Do you think,” she panted, when she could 
speak from indignation at such a presumptuous 
request, “ that I could let that careless child 
drag one of these elegant dresses to the party ? 
why, of course she would ruin it.” 

“ Of course she would,” echoed Margaret, 
recovering from an alarming vision of Carmen 
far outshining herself. 

“Yes, there is hardly a dress here,” said 
Aunt Rosina, with an affectionate glance around 
at her idols, “ but has cost a hundred dollars ! 
Could Carmen ever make that good, if she met 
with an accident? Think of it, a hundred dol- 
lars ! ” 

Her words had all the effect she could desire. 
Dick and Carmen looked at each other. A 
hundred dollars ! It was a handsome income. 
Carmen’s whole wardrobe had cost less for the 
last year, and poor Dick’s expenses were more 
modest still. They went away greatly de- 
pressed. 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


145 


What need is there to tell how many tears 
Carmen shed over the blue merino, and with 
what melancholy interest the good Dick watched 
her trying to remodel it, and give it a little 
more of the style of the prevailing fashion . But 
the day before the party Dick came in with a ra- 
diant face. 

“Carmen,” said he, “ Mabel told me that 
fringe was the most fashionable trimming possi- 
ble this winter, and I had a little money I didn’t 
care for (some silver pieces he had been hoard- 
ing a long time), so I just stopped in the city 
and bought you some ; you said your dress 
looked so plain,” and with his blue eyes fairly 
dancing, Dick triumphantly opened his parcel. 

Carmen gave one glance, and fell back 
laughing and crying together. 

“Is anything wrong?” asked poor Dick, 
timidly. 

“ O Dicky, you dear goose, how will green 
fringe look on a blue dress?” gasped Carmen. 

“ Is it green ? ” asked Dick in dismay. 

Carmen nodded. Indeed it was, and of most 
ancient pattern besides, which some unprinci- 
pled shopkeeper had palmed off' upon his inno- 
10 


ccnce. 


146 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


The sudden blankness in poor Dick’s expres- 
sive face would have touched a harder heart 
than Carmen’s. 

“ Never mind, Dick,” said Carmen, for a 
moment lifted out of self. “ I shall make 
something very nice with it, I am sure.” 

4 4 1 thought it would be all right' if it was 
only trimming” murmured Dick, refusing to be 
comforted. 

And now Margaret came up with her dress, 
which was just completed. It was very pretty, 
and she evidently expected to be quite irresisti- 
ble in it. 

44 And Aunt Rosina has decided to wear her 
lavender silk,” she announced, half dancing 
away, and really seeming for once, quite recon- 
ciled to life. 

But alas, for these plans and expectations ! 
Aunt Rosina had one of her bad turns that very 
night, and the next day was forced most unwil- 
lingly to decide that she had better stay at home. 
Nor was this all. Margaret, who had been 
complaining of cold for the last week, awoke 
upon that eventful day with a swelled face. In 
vain was applied every imaginable remedy that 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


147 


the experience of the united household could 
suggest. By nightfall, Margaret’s pretty 
mouth was hopelessly awry, and, even if it were 
not for that, her face was so blistered and dis- 
figured with hot applications, that Margaret, 
herself, was forced to admit that only mortifica- 
tion awaited her, if she persisted in the determi- 
nation to go. 

The day passed most uncomfortably between 
Aunt Rosina’s fretfulness, and Margaret’s 
unceasing lamentations, especially the last. 
She confided to Bernard, with many tears, that 
she had never had a hope that was not crushed. 
She was born to disappointment, and melan- 
choly had marked her for her own. 

“ In short,” as Dick whispered to Carmen, 
“ she has been afflicted and ready to die from 
her youth up.” 

But Carmen hardly responded ; she was very 
absent-minded. At last she had a plan in her 
head, and everything seemed favoring it. 

Late in the afternoon Vernon made them a brief 
call. In some way he had heard of Margaret’s 
misfortune, and had found time, in all his hurry, 
to bring her an armful of entertaining books. 


148 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“The good, kind heart!” said delighted 
Aunt Whitmore. 

“He always was so fond of Margaret!” 
murmured Aunt Ann. 

“ These are splendid, Vernon,” said Ber- 
nard, turning over the costly engravings, “ and 
if you will excuse me this evening, I will stay 
home, and enjoy these with Margaret. I don’t 
care for all these strange people, you know, and 
they don’t care for me. I would rather any 
time spend the evening alone with you.” 

Vernon looked a little sorry : but he knew 
Bernard’s natural timidity, and when he found 
that he actually preferred remaining at home, 
he was too kind to urge him farther. 

Carmen smiled to herself. It was quite 
wonderful. One less obstacle in the way. 

“ So,” said Dick, “ Carmen and I will rep- 
resent the beauty and talent of the family. W^e 
may be a trifle too modest and retiring, but the 
choice might have been worse.” 

“ Hardly,” laughed Vernon. 

Here came a loud knock at the door. 

“ Is this Mis’ Whitmore? ” said a frightened 
little voice, as it opened. “ The baby has been 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


149 


screamin’ two hours, if you please, mum, and 
mother wants to know if you could come over ? ” 

Of course Aunt Whitmore could, and as she 
bustled away for bonnet and shawl, the little 
mother brought the thinly-clad child to the fire, 
and when she thought no one was looking, she 
slipped a bit of money in her hand. 

But Carmen saw. “ How much was it, 
mother?” she whispered, irritably. It might 
have bought her a knot of ribbon, or a net for 
her hair. 

“ Ah, Carmen,” said the little mother, look- 
ing at her wistfully, as she smoothed her hair. * 
‘ ‘ It is a very sad thing to have too much love, 
and too little love — too much love for silks and 
ribbons, and none for flesh and blood.” 

Aunt Whitmore now suddenly emerged from 
some hidden recess, with a large bunch of dried 
herbs, which Vernon helped her do up in a 
paper. 

“ It’s my belief,” said Bernard, “ that not a 
baby in this neighborhood would have lived to 
get its first tooth, if it hadn’t been for mother.” 

“ My only wonder is,” said Dick, demurely, 
“ how the human race ever got started without 


150 


ONE DAY'S WEAVING. 


her. There was Adam and Eve now, — they 
must have had a tough time with that little Cain, 
and nobody to give them a hint of catnip tea.” 

“ And I've often been sorry for ’em, poor 
young creturs ! ” said Aunt Whitmore, simply. 

Dick gave a quick glance at Carmen, but she 
did not smile. She knew that laughing at his 
mother was the one unpardonable sin, which 
Dick’s chivalrous heart could not forgive. 

“ Cain couldn’t have been a very pleasant 
baby, that’s a fact,” said Vernon, struggling to 
maintain his gravity. “ I wonder if they were’nt 
a little in despair about him at first ; for how did 
they know he would ever grow up ? They must 
have thought he was an entirely original crea- 
tion, and they had an everlasting baby on 
their hands ! ” 

Dick was glad of a legitimate opportunity to 
indulge in an uproarious laugh. 

But now Aunt Whitmore was ready, and 
Vernon went with her to help her carefully 
across the street. 

“Better and better,” said Carmen, as she 
disappeared. “ Aunt Whitmore won’t be back 
to-night.” For she knew from what the child 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


151 


had said, that the poor little baby was drifting 
far beyond the help of catnip tea. 

The tea-table was spread, but Carmen, 
absent and troubled, could not eat a mouthful. 

‘ ‘ This party seems to be making a great deal 
of unhappiness in this family,” said Aunt Ann, 
looking from Carmen to Margaret sobbing in 
the chimney corner, “ the clearest proof in my 
mind that the Lord is against it. Come, Car- 
men, why can’t you just give it up and stay 
home, and be happy ? ” 

“ Because I want to go, Aunt Ann,” said 
Carmen. 

“ Of course you do. ‘ When the Lord is 
going west, the devil and the world go east.’ 
It’s always the way.” 

Carmen’s mother quietly beckoned her to 
follow her out of the door. 

“ I have a very nice surprise for you,” said 
she, leading her up to her room, and taking 
from its peg her own carefully preserved black 
silk. “ There, Carmen,” said she, with all the 
delight of a child, “ I would not tell you till 
the last minute, but I have been altering this to 
fit you, and I am sure you will look very nice 


152 


ONE DAY’S WEAWNG. 


Carmen’s heart was touched, and for a mo- 
ment she looked away from the bad pattern she 
was intending to weave. 

“ Now go and dress,” said the little mother, 
tenderly, “ and be sure and come and show your- 
self before you go. I must stay with your Aunt 
Rosina, who is very nervous and miserable. 

“ Yes,” said Aunt Rosina, from the bed, 
where Carmen had just discovered her, “ I 
have come in to stay with your mother to-night. 
Your Aunt Ann had no more heart than to think 
of leaving me all alone in my room, and in my 
feeble state ! ” she groaned. 

“ Yes,” explained Carmen’s mother. “It is 
so bitterly cold to-night, Aunt Ann thought it 
was best to keep poor Margaret down stairs.” 

How every valley was exalted, and every hill 
made low ! Carmen was almost frightened. 
What was there in the way now? But she 
struggled against the temptation a little longer, 
and going to her room, resolutely began her 
simple toilet. 

A half hour later there was a knock, and 
Dick appeared, bright and fresh with his clean 
linen, and boots shining like mirrors. 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


153 


“ I came to ask you if this bow is tied like 
Vernon’s,” he began, “O, I beg pardon, is it 
Aunt Ann, or the fire-shovel?” and Dick threw 
himself back in a paroxysm, at sight of Carmen, 
standing stiff and wretched in the sombre dress, 
— the sleeves too short, — the skirt barely 
touching the floor, and the antique waist pain- 
fully compressing the round figure. 

“ Dick,” said Carmen, vehemently, “ I have 
made up my mind. I shall not go, unless ” — 

“ Unless what?” asked Dick, anxiously. 

“Unless you will promise to help me make 
myself respectable.” 

“ My Carmen, right or wrong ! ” said Dick, 
valiantly. 

Carmen caught his hands, and looked straight 
in his eyes. “Dick, I am going after Aunt 
Rosina’s green silk dress ! ” 

Dick changed color. “ Seems to me I 
wouldn’t, Carmen,” pleaded he. 

“But / would,” said wilful Carmen. “I 
shan’t hurt it at all, and she will never know it. 
If you won’t help. me, I must get it alone, but 
you said you would.” 

I suppose it would make you very happy,” 


154 


ONE DAYS WEAVING. 


said Dick, thoughtfully, “and there would be 
some fun in playing such a game on Aunt 
Rosina, when she has been so selfish and mean ; 
still, I don’t half like it.” 

“ Well, we’ll confess it, when it’s all over, 
and she’ll forgive us, and give us her blessing. 
Come, Dick ! it’s getting so late.” 

Dick reluctantly drew off his boots, and, 
carrying the candle, came softly behind Car- 
men’s little slippers. How they started at every 
shadow ! How a creaking board had power to 
send a cold chill over them ! But the coveted 
dress was captured, and Carmen, lingering, 
said, — 

“ What if I should take the coral, too, 
Dick?” 

“ Might as well be hung for an old sheep as 
a lamb,” said Dick, but his smile didn’t look 
natural. 

Carmen hastily opened the little drawer, of 
which she had discovered the secret spring, and 
snatching the morocco case, almost flew back to 
her room. 

“ Carmen,” said Dick, panting after, “ I feel 
as if I had been doing a hard day’s work. I’m 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


155 


in such a perspiration. Why, just look at my 
collar ! I shall have to put on a clean one.” 

“ Go then, while I show myself to mother,” 
said Carmen. “ She must see me in this black 
silk.” 

Dick looked after her wistfully, but she would 
not meet his eye. 

“And very sweet you look, Carmen,” said 
the gratified mother, kissing her on each cheek. 
“A black silk is proper for any occasion, and 
always looks lady-like, doesn’t it, Rosina? ” 

“ Very much so indeed. Just the thing,” 
said Aunt Rosina, not taking the trouble to 
open her eyes. 

When Dick again saw Carmen, he stood full 
a minute, as full of astonishment and admiration, 
as the most exacting vanity could wish. 

“ I hardly know you,” he said, at last. “ I 
don’t much wonder girls love dress when it 
makes such a change as this. Why, Carmen, 
you are wonderful ! If I were a painter I 
should want to paint you, and if I weren’t your 
cousin ” — 

“ Never mind,” said Carmen, laughing, “we 
must hurry.” 


156 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Dick tucked her proudly under his arm. 
“Right or wrong, Carmen, you’re always 
charming,” he said. “ One can’t help admir- 
ing you,— 

‘ For she weaves by night and day, 

A magic web, with colors gay,’ ” 

he hummed, as they went down the stairs. 

“ Come in,” said Margaret’s querulous voice. 
“ I want to see how you look.” 

But they pretended not to hear, and hurried 
out into the frosty night. They said very little 
on the way, and Carmen did not feel half so 
satisfied as she expected. The night air seemed 
to cool her feverishness, and under the pure, 
solemn stars she began to think more calmly of 
the deeds of the day. She wished Dick hadn’t 
made any allusion to weaving a web. She 
wished, O, she wished from the bottom of her 
heart, that she was walking along in the old 
blue merino I 


CHAPTER VII. 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING — CONTINUED. 

JT all this was forgotten, when she, at 
last, stood in the beautiful parlor of the 
Hammonds. The gaily dressed throng, 
the brilliant lights, the soft, warm paint- 
ings, the enchanting music, — all had a most 
bewildering effect upon Carmen’s excitable na- 
ture. One moment of uneasiness she had, when 
Mabel glanced, with the slightest shade of sur- 
prise, at the rich and expensive dress, though 
she was too well-bred to make any allusion to 
it. But then Vernon came up, his frank face 
speaking his admiration and pleasure plainer 
than words, and carried her away to introduce 
her to some of the most distinguished guests. 
It was not possible for Carmen to be uncon- 
scious of the attention she excited. Her esti- 
mate of her attractions had not been too great. 
Many and many a look of most genuine admi- 
ration she surprised, with now and then a 
( 157 ) 



15 $ 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


glance of envy which pleased her proud heart 
still better. In fact, the whole evening was an 
intoxication, and she believed herself perfectly 
happy. If, now and then, she remembered 
whose dress she was wearing, wondering 
whether Aunt Ann, and others of her stern 
creed, might not call her a thief, — it was only 
to smile and think — 

“ How perfectly stupid if I had come in that 
black silk, and been laughed at. I may have 
done wrong, but how I am repaid for it ! I may 
have done wrong, but all the trees in the garden 
of God are envying me!” 

Something she heard a little later in the even- 
ing, pleased her exceedingly, and encouraged 
her in these thoughts of selfishness and pride. 
Yernon had asked her to go into the conserva- 
tory, and, making their way through the crowd, 
they had finally escaped from the heat and glare, 
into coolness and fragrance, and soft summer 
twilight. Carmen could not repress a cry of 
delight at the loveliness that burst upon her — 
the luxuriant drooping vines, the faint, silver 
drip of the little fountain, and the wonderful 
flowers, so transfigured by cultivation that they 
seemed like new creations. 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


159 


“We have a very skilful gardener,” said 
Vernon, “ and he acts like a juggler among his 
pets. Do you see those leaves? ” he pointed to 
some masses of green, gold, and violet plush. 
“And do you see that perfect flower in the pot 
directly next, with the leaves all small and 
dwindling? You would hardly believe it, but 
those are twin plants, of the very same family ; 

in one, he brings the leaves to perfection, and 

* 

discourages the flower ; in the other, it is the 
flower that is developed to the utter ruin of the 
leaves. I don’t know how he does it, but the 
results are wonderful. Father says, it gives 
one some queer ideas of what might be done 
with human plants. Why shouldn’t a skil- 
ful master develop almost any character he 
chooses ? ” 

As Vernon paused, they caught fragments of 
a very earnest discussion between two gentle- 
men, half concealed by an orange tree. 

“ I suppose you will admit,” said the one, 
“that the Creator of all must be the greatest 
poet and artist in the universe, — greater than 
any of the creatures he has gifted, — and must 
love everything beautiful far more than we do, 


160 


OXE day’s weaving. 


with an intensity of which our strongest emotion 
is only a faint reflection ? ” 

“ Of course,” returned the other. “ His 
Niagara and Mont Blanc are greater poems than 
have ever been written, — and the flowers, the 
endless variety of tree-forms, the wonderful 
plumage of the birds, — everything, proves that 
He has never had a creative impulse in which 
the element of beauty did not largely enter.” 

“Very well then,” continued the first, “why 
isn’t He greatly pleased when some beautiful 
thought of his is assisted to evolve itself in full 
perfection ? I assert again that the money spent 
in bringing this costly flower to such climax of 
beauty, must be employed as much to His sat- 
isfaction as in giving bread and flannel to the 
poor ! ” 

There was a murmur of dissent from his oppo- 
nent. 

“Iam right,” continued the first, triumphant- 
ly, “I am sure, God cannot be better pleased 
than to have us cultivate the beautiful. You 
cannot deny what I am going to say. Isn’t 
beauty as great a necessity to the Infinite Imag- 
ination, as mercy or charity to the Infinite 
Love?” 


GNE DAY’S WEAVING. 


161 


All this was rather beyond Carmen’s depth ; 
nevertheless, one idea she caught. The gentle- 
men both agreed that God must love everything 
beautiful. It was a delightful thought, for 
wouldn’t He be as much pleased with the beauty 
of a human being as with that of a flower ? She 
wished she dare ask. 

“ Very ingenious, certainly,” replied the sec- 
ond gentleman, “ but you are a little hasty in 
some of your conclusions. I suppose you will 
agree that if we are to make God an offering 
of beauty, we ought to give him the highest ex- 
pression of it in our power. Now the most beau- 
tiful object in the universe must be the pure 
and holy God himself ; the next most beautiful, 
must be the soul that most closely resembles 
his. A beautiful soul, then, is the most perfect 
gift we can bring to our Father, and the ques- 
tion resolves itself simply into this: — will a 
soul grow more beautiful by attending to the 
cultivation of a flower, or by giving itself to 
deeds of mercy and charity, the bestowal of 
bread and flannel on the poor? ” 

‘ 4 Wasn’t that capital, Carmen? ’’said Ver- 
non, as the first gentleman, with a languid 
11 


162 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


laugh, acknowledged his defeat. ‘ ‘ I was a lit- 
tle staggered at first, but it is very simple ; of 
course immortal beauty must be a great deal 
better than that which must fade and die.” 

But Carmen looked up at him absently. She 
had not heard a word of the reply. 

“Countess,” said Dick, hurrying up, “I 
have been looking all over for you, you are 
missing the most splendid music ! ” and he 
dragged them off to hear some long-haired pro- 
fessor perform miracles of execution upon the 
piano. But Carmen did not like it half so well 
as Vernon’s simpler music, in which it always 
seemed as if she could hear the beating of his 
heart. 

After that came the grand supper, the table 
lifted out of grossness with its exquisite flowers 
and fruits, while well-trained servants moved 
noiselessly about with the oysters, the creams, 
and the jellies.” 

“ Look out, Carmen !” whispered Dick, cross- 
ing anxiously to her side, ‘ ‘ I think that old 
mole behind you, is putting her oysters any 
where but in her mouth.” 

Carmen turned in quick consternation. A 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


163 


fat old lady in moire-antique, was composedly 
narrating the particulars of her last neuralgia 
to an unhappy old gentleman in a wig, while 
her plate, held at an alarming angle, was drip- 
ping butter and ruin upon the back breadths of 
Aunt Rosina’s dress ! 

Carmen turned so very white, that Mr. Ham- 
mond noticed it in passing. “ This room is too 
close for you, my child, will you take my arm?” 

“ I will take her, sir,” said Dick, drawing her 
hand in his, and in another minute they were 
out on the stairs. 

What a change two minutes had made ! Car- 
men hardly knew herself. How hard, in the 
midst of such lovely dreams, to be shaken into 
consciousness by such an ugly reality. She had 
toppled from the pinnacle of the temple, and 
there had been no angel to break the fall. 

“ Don’t look so white and frightened, Car- 
men,” said Dick, anxiously. “I’ve got some 
soap in my room, that, the man said, would 
take the spots off the sun. We’ll have the 
dress all right yet, if we have to sit up all night 
for it.” 

“ Let’s hurry then, Dick, I shall be perfectly 


164 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


wretched till I know whether anything can be 
done.” 

They had fairly slipped out of the door, when 
Vernon came running after them. 

“ You are not going already,” he cried in 
great disappointment. 

Dick answered for Carmen, who could not 
speak. 

“ This is Cinderella,” he screamed, already 
far up the street. “In five minutes her fine 
dress will all turn to rags.” 

“ Alas,” Carmen thought, “ the change has 
already begun.” 

They had not been out very long, when Car- 
men noticed a pale, solemn light on the snow. 

4 4 What is it ? ” she asked uneasily of Dick. 

44 And what ails you ? ” said he, “haven’t you 
ever seen the Northern Lights before?” 

Carmen looked up to see the white, mysterious 
shafts of light streaming up the frosty sky. She 
had never been afraid of them before, but now, 
in her excitement, she shivered. They had come 
to spy her out. Hadn’t she been wretched 
enough before, without the aurora lighting a 
hundred candles to look at her, as she walked 
home in Aunt Rosina’s ruined dress ! 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


165 


Faster and faster they walked, for Dick was 
nearly as anxious as herself. Softly they stole 
into the sleeping house, with Dick’s night-key, 
and, with trembling haste, Carmen slipped on a 
loose sacque, and spread Aunt Rosina’s dress 
on the floor. The injury was even greater 
than they thought. Three breadths, at least, 
were disfigured with straggling muddj streams, 
upon the soft emerald. Carmen burst into tears, 
but Dick kept up good courage. 

“ Rivers of the first magnitude,” said he, 
“ but we’ll see what we can do. Here, I’ll be- 
gin with the Mississippi. Carmen, hold the 
candle.” 

He rubbed the soap on a flannel rag, and 
then went vigorously to work, very much as one 
would scour a floor. 

“ Gently, gently, Dick !” implored Carmen. 

“ O, I know all about it,” said Dick, con- 
fidently, “ haven’t I rubbed up my coat lots of 
times ? It needs strength and I shan’t spare 
myself! there, Carmen,” said he, at last, his 
face shining with exertion and satisfaction, “ I 
flatter myself that is all out !” 

Carmen, with a lighter heart, brought the 


166 


ONE DAY'S WEAVING. 


candle to bear more directly upon it but quickly 
gave a cry of dismay. 

“ And something else is out too !” gasped 
she. 

Dick, thoroughly disheartened, gave her an 
inquiring look. 

“Thecolor, don’t you see? O, Dick, you’ve 
rubbed it into a dirty white, — it is certainly 
ruined now, and it cost a hundred dollars I 
What shall I do? O, Dick, what shall I do !” 

To Carmen’s utter surprise, Dick suddenly 
rolled the dress into a ball, threw it under the 
bed, and with the agility of an eel, immediate- 
ly followed after. Some dreadful doubt that 
he was losing his senses, crossed Carmen’s 
mind, but, almost before it could take shape, a 
shadow fell across the door, and Aunt Ann ap- 
peared, casting a suspicious glance around. 

‘ ‘ Why are you not in your bed ? restless 
spirit that you are ! ” said she. 

“ I never could sleep well in my shoes,” said 
Carmen, as carelessly as possible. 

“ You have had plenty of time to take them 
off,” cried Aunt Ann, understanding her. 
“ Here’s Dick, who came in at the same time, 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


167 


“ I’ve just looked in his room, and it’s all dark, 
and he’s sound asleep.” 

The fringed coverlid at the bottom of the 
bed stirred a little, and there was a curious, 
short, smothered sound. 

Aunt Ann’s gimlet eyes, bored into every 
corner of the room, while Carmen trembled, ex- 
pecting every minute to see Dick dragged out 
by the hair of his head. 

“ The rats are getting very bold,” said Aunt 
Ann, settling her doubts, at last. “ But now, 
Carmen, do you go right to bed ! you have 
made poor Margaret very nervous ; she was 
sure she heard talking, and so was I.” 

“ How could that be? Aunt Ann,” said Car- 
men. 

‘‘Well, we were mistaken, I suppose — It 
must have been your patter, patter, patter over 
the floor. Now if everything isn’t still in five 
minutes, I shall come and take away your can- 
dle.” 

She was gone, and Dick cautiously emerged 
from his hiding-place^ 

“ It’s my boots that made the mischief, I 
guess,” said he, drawing them off. “ Wasn’t 


168 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


that cleverly done though, Carmen? Her sly 
old list shoes never gave the first squeak, till 
she must have been on the last step of the 
stairs ! But what are we to do now ?” 

“ I can’t think, to-night,” said Carmen, pit- 
eously. “ Let us fold up the dress, and lay it 
back in the trunk, just as it was. She may 
not find it out for days.” 

“ And then?” asked Dick, shortly. 

“Don’t be cross, Dicky,” pleaded Carmen, 
“ then of course I must tell her, if I can’t think 
of some plan. I must just have time to think 
it over.” 

“ Well, let us be quick then,” assented Dick. 
“We’ve been very lucky so far. Isn’t it 
queer that Aunt Ann and Aunt Rosina should 
both be out of their room to-night, — probably 
the only time it will happen so this winter. 
I hope the evil spirits haven’t had a hand 
in it.” 

Carmen shivered a little, as she fastened the 
dress in the towels in which Aunt Rosina al- 
ways carefully pinned it.”^ 

“ Now put the corals in the case, and we’ll 
carry everything back together. I wish it was 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


169 


over with, and we were both safe in our beds.” 

Carmen laid the pretty pin in its velvet 
bed, one ear-ring was laid beside it, the other, — 
she felt of her ear in horror, — there is no 
milder term, — the other was gone ! 

“ It isn’t lost, Carmen !” cried Dick, in an 
agitated voice ; “ that would be too cruel.” 

They made eager search through the room, 
but all in vain, as Carmen’s despairing heart 
prophesied from the first. 

“ They just hook in without any fastening, 
— how foolish ! ” said Dick, examining the odd 
one. “ Nothing was easier than for one to drop 
out. Oh, Carmen, why did you, — but don’t 
cry, don’t cry,” said he, throwing his arms 
around her; “ perhaps I may find it yet. I’ll 
be up with the first streak of light, and search 
every inch of the way. Come now, let’s put 
back what we can. Could you find the place 
without a light? It would be better on account 
of Aunt Ann. 

“ Yes, but you must go with me,” said Car- 
men ; and, with the greatest caution, they stole 
into the hall. 

“ Hug the wall, Carmen,” said Dick, 


170 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ there’s a board that cracks badly in the mid- 
dle ; ” and slowly and stealthily they advanced 
upon the door. 

“Did you hear anything inside?” asked 
Dick, in the smallest whisper. 

“No!” said Carmen, her knees knocking 
together. 

“ Neither did I,” returned Dick, with an in- 
finitesimal giggle. 

“ Don’t joke now, Dick,” said Carmen, 
almost sobbing. “ I can’t bear it. Besides, 
I’m almost sure I heard something. Don’t you 
believe Aunt Ann went in there to wait till I 
got to bed ! ” 

“No, I’m sure I heard those old shoes flip- 
flap down every step of the stairs.” 

Carmen put her hand on the knob, and drew 
back, trembling. 

“Nonsense!” said Dick. “Here, I’ll go 
first. Fall into line. Steady now ! England 
expects every man to do his duty ! ” 

Dick marched boldly forward, while Carmen 
followed more cautiously. One shutter of a 
window was partly opened, and in that same 
pale, spectral light, Carmen could just distin- 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


171 


gulsh the outlines of the furniture. Somewhat 
reassured, she was about to open the trunk, 
when something stirred in a shadowy corner of 
the room, and, to her utter horror, — two dread- 
ful fiery eyes suddenly glared out upon her ! 
She gave a faint scream, and, catching Dick’s 
hand, dragged him after her in headlong flight. 

“ Well ! ” he ejaculated, as the two stood 
breathless and safe on the other side of the 
door, “could you tell me what that’s for? 
Girls are always going off at something. I’d 
rather walk through a powder-mill ” — 

“ Didn’t you see it?” panted Carmen. 

“ What ? Aunt Aim ? ” 

“Or something worse!” said Carmen, her 
teeth chattering. 

Dick laughed a little. “ If it’s anything 
worse than Aunt Ann,” said he, “ I want to 
see it.” His hand was again on the knob. 

“ Don’t go, Dick,” pleaded Carmen. 

“Yes, I will, I feel just as bold as a — 
sheep ! ” and in he went. 

Carmen, debating in an agony whether she 
had better not go to his assistance, was re- 
lieved by hearing a smothered laugh, and pres- 


172 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


ently Dick reappeared, carrying Muff in his 
arms, poor Muff, who had been shut in by 
mistake, and was longing for her old quarters 
on the kitchen hearth. 

“ I beg your pardon, ma’am,” said Dick, 
smoothing the harmless lump of fur, “for 
taking you for Aunt Ann. Of course, your 
lovely green eyes weren’t in the least like ” — 

“Oh, Dick, how can you!” cried Carmen, 
in a tone of misery, as she laid the ruined dress 
in the very bottom of the trunk, and the incom- 
plete corals in the back of the secret drawer. 

“ Well, Carmen,” said Dick, dolefully enough, 
following her back to her room, “ I’m not so 
much happier than you, after all. I never felt 
meaner in my life. I’ve found out one thing — 

I never could follow house-breaking for a living. 
Good-night ; I suppose Bernard and Helen 
have been asleep for hours, with a good con- 
science for a pillow. He sighed a little, as he 
kissed her. Carmen did not lift her eyes. 

“Listen!” said Dick, lifting his finger. 

“ There, I thought so ! I believe my hair will 
turn gray, to-night. Jump into bed, quick ! ” 
and, blowing out the candle, he stole away with 9 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


173 


a step no heavier than a fly’s on a window 
pane. 

“Are you in bed, Carmen?” cried Aunt 
Ann, severely, at the door. 

“ Yes,” said Carmen, sleepily. 

“ It is very singular — the noises around this 
old house, to-night ! ” said Aunt Ann, leaving 
her, at last, alone with her unhappy thoughts. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 

ARMEN does not look at all like her- 
self,” said the little mother, anxiously, the 
day after the party. 44 This excitement 
has been too much for her.” 

44 I should like to know what has happened 
to her tongue ! ” said Margaret, in great ill- 

A 

humor. 44 She hasn’t seen fit to tell me any- 
thing. I’m sure it would be very little for her 
to do, when she has been enjoying herself so 
much.” 

And Carmen’s silence seemed stranger yet, 
when Vernon, — who came to bring mottoes 
and candies to Margaret, — told them such 
gratifying things about her appearance and the 
attention she had received. 

44 And Carmen did not think she was going 
to look at all well in that old silk,” said her de- 
lighted mother. 



( 174 ) 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 175 


“ Old ! ” exclaimed Vernon. “ I thought it 
was one of the prettiest dresses there, — such a 
nice color.” 

“ It was always a good black,” said the little 
mother, simply. 

“ Black?” cried Vernon, a little bewildered. 

Carmen was hot and cold at once. 

“ Vernon,” exclaimed Dick, a little abruptly, 
“ what should you say about the- skating on the 
river? It ought to be pretty safe again after 
last night, don’t you think so ? ” And then he 
began an animated discussion upon the science 
of skating, — the proper kind of skates to wear, 
— the new skating rink they were talking of 
having in the city ; he didn’t let the conversa- 
tion flag for a quarter of an hour. 

“ One more hair-breadth escape,” thought 
Carmen, with a grateful glance at Dick. “ But 
the discovery must come at last ! ” 

Day after day passed, and Carmen was not 
able to devise any means of clearing herself from 
this entanglement. Day after day passed, and 
Dick’s search was in vain for the missing ear- 
ring ; while every morning, as Carmen dressed 
herself slowly, the pale face looking back at her 


176 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


from the mirror, seemed to say, “ What if it 
should be found out before, night ! ” 

“ Carmen,” said Dick, one half holiday, 
almost a fortnight afterwards, “ you and I must 
have a skate this afternoon. “ I think we’re 
both suffering from chronic nightmare. Come, 
bundle yourself up, and hurry off, before Aunt 
Ann sees you, and gets .up a dish-cloth to be 
hemmed.” 

Carmen was at first very unwilling, but Dick 
insisted, and when she was, at last, on the ice, 
in the midst of the gay crowd, shouting and 
laughing in the clear, bracing air, — she forgot 
her troubles for the first time since that unhappy 
night. Nor did they come upon her again, till 
the sudden shadow and chill, that followed the 
disappearance of the sun, — warned them of the 
necessity of going home. Then terror and si- 
lence fell upon Carmen. 

“ You are losing all your spirits,” said Dick, 
regretfully, as hand in hand they skated back to 
the village. “ You are not a bit like the old 
Carmen.” 

“I am always afraid to go home now,” said 
she, in a low tone. “ I never know what may 
have happened while I’ve been gone.” 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 177 

“ Yes, and if a door opens you almost jump 
out of your skin, and if any one speaks to you 
suddenly, you look ready to faint. Don’t you 
think it would be better just to tell it, and have 
it over with ? ” 

“ Oh, Dick,” cried Carmen, grasping his 
arm, in great alarm, “don’t say so! She 
would be so outrageous^ — she would tell every- 
body ! Oh, it would be dreadful ! # Now if she 
could only get off, without finding it out, — she 
will go in a week or two, you know, — then I 
could write to her. Of course there would be a 
dreadful storm, but it would have to come in a 
letter, and be so much quieter ; perhaps we 
could keep it to ourselves, perhaps — perhaps 
Mabel and Yernon needn’t ever hear of it ! 
Would Margaret, — would any one tell them?” 

“ Nobody would be so mean, I am sure,” 
said Dick. 

“ And possibly, if Aunt Rosin a wrote, the 
letter would be to mother, and then we could 
talk it over together ; and perhaps, Dick, we 
could find some way to settle it, and never let 
any one else know,” said Carmen, almost 
comforted. 


12 


178 


ONE day's weaving. 


“ That would be capital,” said Dick. 44 I 
wonder if it would do any good to pray for it? ” 

44 Do you pray?” said Carmen, timidly. 

Dick gave an embarrassed little cough. 

“Well, — yes. The fact is, I have been 
changing my mind about some things. I used 
to think all good people must either be like 
Aunt Ann, — so stiff and gloomy, — or else 
very sweet, but with no snap about them. I 
used to think religion, — as Aunt Ann calls it, — 
took all the life and fun out of a fellow ; but 
since I’ve seen more of Vernon, I know better. 
Why Carmen, he is just as fond of jokes as 
ever, and he can swim better and run faster 
than any boy in the town. Besides that, if you 
could only see him at base ball ! the most splen- 
did batter ! and as for catching a fly-ball, it 
always sticks to his hands as if it were a lump 
of glue. I believe he’d hold on to it if it were 
red-hot.” 

4 4 There’s a catalogue of Christian graces ! ” 
said Carmen, with something of her old spirit. 

44 Never be saucy to me, Carmen,” laughed 
Dick. 44 You know very well what I mean, 
and that is, that if I am ever to be goody the 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 179 


change can’t come all in a minute. Nobody 
will take me for Deacon Goodman, the first 
year, at least.” 

“ And I’ll insure you for the second and 
third,” said Carmen. 

“ I’m afraid you’re right,” laughed Dick, 
again. “It doesn’t come a bit natural to me 
to be gentle and meek. I’m first cousin to a 
tinder-box. But do you know I was very glad 
when Vernon said, the other day, that some 
good old saint thought anger was ‘ one of the 
sinews of the soul,’ and the soul wouldn’t be 
perfect without it. Wasn’t that a comfort? 
only I suppose one must be careful to have the 
right kind of anger. O, dear, I get so con- 
fused thinking about it ! I don’t see my way 
quite plain yet.” Dick sighed. 

And Carmen sighed, for they had reached 
the bank, and the house was in sight — the 
house that held her skeleton. 

It was very cold, and taking off their skates, 
they started on a race, which only ended as, 
panting and glowing, they burst into the sitting- 
room, as if they had been shot out of a gun. 
No one, however, noticed their abrupt entrance. 


180 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Something very absorbing was going on, and 
this was the tableau that met Carmen’s quick, 

frightened glance : — 

© © 

Aunt Rosina, marching up and down, with 
sparkling eyes and flaming cheeks, gesticulating 
in a most extraordinary manner ! Aunt Whit- 
more following after her, vainly trying to get in 
a word. Aunt Ann and the little mother talk- 
ing anxiously in a corner apart. Yernon, by 
the fire, trying to soothe Margaret, who seemed 
in genuine agitation, and, by the kitchen door, 
— weeping and wringing her hands, — Riga, 
her rosy face quite blanched and colorless. 

“ I just discovered it this afternoon,” Aunt 
Rosina was saying, in a high, excited key. “ I 
don’t know when it was done. My very best 
dress. A hundred dollars, and more — per- 
fectly ruined ! ” 

“ And I’ve known dresses to git spotted by 
layin’,” interposed Aunt Whitmore. “ There 
was my canary color de laine ” — 

Like a leaf before a mountain torrent, Aunt 
Whitmore’s gentle suggestion was swept 
away. 

“ Spotted with oysters and cream, wasn’t 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 181 


it?” cried Aunt Rosina, with withering sar- 
casm. “ No, this shameless creature has dared 
to wear it to some of her low entertainments, — 
nothing but my handsomest dress would do ! 
and even that wasn’t enough, — she must take 
my beautiful corals, and one is lost, — do you 
understand, Jane? I suppose you have known 
ear-rings to get lost by lying, haven’t you ? ” 

Poor Aunt Whitmore was quite annihilated. 

“ Riga has always been an honest girl,” said 
the little mother, bravely taking her part, as 
with broken-hearted sobs, the poor girl protest- 
ed her entire innocence. 1 ‘ Couldn’t the ear- 
ring have been mislaid? You ought not to ac- 
cuse her till you are very sure.” 

“I am sure, I have been searching her room. 
First I found two fine handkerchiefs, which I 
am sure were mine, and then, in a box on her 
bureau, a piece of my own ear-ring ! ” add 
Aunt Rosina, with angry triumph, held up a 
little broken scarlet leaf. 

Aunt Whitmore and the little mother ex- 
changed an anxious glance, while Riga, with 
many sobs, explained that she had picked up 
the bit of coral on the snow, and was saving it 


182 


ONE DAYS WEAVING. 


for her little, lame sister ; and the two hand- 
kerchiefs had been given her by her last mis- 
tress. She had never taken a pin that didn’t 
belong to her. 

Aunt Rosina put her down with an impatient 
wave of the hand. “ Of course, of course,” she 
said; “ I expected you would have some story 
ready. But besides this, I have missed money 
every little while ” — 

‘ ‘ But you almost always find you have made 
some mistake in your accounts,” said Aunt 
Ann. 

“ I say I have missed money,” persisted Aunt 
Rosina,” and here is Riga’s purse, altogether 
too full for a girl in her circumstances.” 

“ I have just paid her month’s wages,” said 
Aunt Whitmore, timidly. 

‘ ‘ But it’s a great deal more than that ; 
where did the rest come from ? ” 

“I can’t just remember every cent,” began 
the girl , ‘ ‘ but ” — 

“ You shall have plenty of time to remem- 
ber,” said Aunt Rosina, with some hidden • 
meaning in her tone. 

The door opened, and in came Bernard, who 
had been walking with Helen and Jack. 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 183 


“ Here’s some odd mistake,” said he, looking 
behind him — “ there’s a city policeman outside, 
who insists that he is wanted here — has been 
sent for.” 

“ That’s right,” said Aunt Rosina, quickly. 
“ I sent for him, I’ve been expecting him. Let 
him come in.” 

Riga, in an agony of terror, rushed to Aunt 
Whitmore, and threw her arms around her 
knees. The good lady was fairly crying. 

“ It don’t seem no ways right, Rosina,” said 
she. “ Whatever the girl has done, you’ve 
been too hasty. 

Dick looked at Carmen, with devouring eyes, 
but she stood motionless, with her hand clenched 
on the back of a chair. This was so much 
worse than her most vivid imagination had pict- 
ured. Whichever way she looked was ruin ! 
If she let this girl suffer for her fault, would 
her lost happiness be restored ? No, Carmen’s 
own proud heart told her how she should de- 
spise herself for this basest of deeds, even if she 
could bear Dick’s silent contempt and averted 
eyes. But, on the other hand, how could she 
bring herself to such a public confession ? If 


184 


ONE DAY’S WEA fING. 


Vernon was not there, perhaps. — But Oh, what 
would be the consequences if she did tell I 
Would they award her the same fate which was 
hanging over poor Riga ? And why not ? 

Alas, poor cedar, that was willing to be hid- 
den by the smallest tree in the garden of God ! 

Vernon crossed over to her side. “Don’t 
be so frightened, Carmen,” said he. “ I never 
saw any one look so white. Don’t trouble your 
dear, little heart. We will arrange it all some 
way.” How tenderly he spoke. 

“ If he only knew ! ” thought Carmen. 

Aunt Rosina had been to the door. 

“Is this the prisoner, ma’am?” said the 
policeman, quietly enough, but the words raised 
a tornado in Carmen’s heart. 

Now or never ! she thought. She must 
make up her mind at once. Oh, if everything 
could only stop a few minutes and give her time 
to think ! It was dreadful to have the web 
weaving so fast — weaving for eternity ! She 
knew that the threads of love and honor were 
within her reach, if she only had strength to 
take them. One moment of utter wretchedness, 
and then she stretched out her hand, and took — 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 185 


the shameful shuttle, which is only lifted by the 
very weakest fingers. 

“ I cannot tell ! ” said Carmen, to her throb- 
bing, indignant heart. 

Dick, — who had been watching so eagerly, 
— read the decision in the lines hardening 
around her mouth. Then he dropped the cold 
hand he had been holding and walked away to 
the window. 

Carmen shivered a little. No words could 
have conveyed so much as that simple act. 

In the meantime Yernon and Bernard were 
importuning Aunt Rosina to postpone the arrest 
one more day, till the matter could be more 
thoroughly investigated. The circumstantial 
evidence appeared very strong, but Riga had 
always borne an excellent character, — it might 
be a very serious thing if they should accuse her 
unjustly, and she did not look nor act like a 
guilty person. 

Aunt Rosina was very unwilling at first, but 
was forced to yield to the combined entreaties. 
She would postpone it twenty-four hours, she 
said, and then, if there was no other clue to the 
mystery, she should, at least, have the satisfac- 


186 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


tion of sending Riga to jail. “ And very small 
satisfaction it is for the injury she has done me,” 
finished Aunt Rosina, beginning to cry over the 
irreparable loss. 

Vernon went out with the officer, to explain 
that there had been some mistake, while Aunt 
Whitmore sank back in a chair, wiping her 
good, motherly face. 

‘‘This has made me ’most sick, Rosina,” 
said she. 

‘ ‘ And what is the matter with Carmen ? ” 
asked Margaret, curiously. 

“ She always feels anything twice as strongly 
as anybody else,” said Bernard, kindly taking 
her hand. “ But I hope she isn’t going to 
turn into stone, this time.” 

“ There’s a pair of them,” said Margaret. 
“ Dick seems to be petrified, too.” 

But Dick still stood rigidly staring out into 
the darkness. 

Carmen lifted her eyes only once, to look at 
him, with a yearning and misery that would 
have conquered that soft heart, if he had seen 
it, — and then, — stammering something about 
a head-ache, — she left the room, and Dick’s 


THE SHUTTLE OF COWARDICE. 187 


quick ears heard her stumbling up the stairs 
like one who could not see, and was making 
acquaintance with their angles and turns for the 
first time. 


CHAPTER IX. 


UNROLLING THE WEB. 


pCK hurried through his breakfast the 
next morning, and was off at an unu- 
sually early hour, but he need not have 
taken the trouble, for Carmen did not 
appear till nearly noon. A sharp reproof from 
Aunt Ann, was cut short at sight of her face. 

‘ ‘ I shouldn’t wonder if she was going to have 
a fit of sickness,” she said to Aunt Whitmore. 

The little mother beckoned her into the back 
kitchen, to take the breakfast she had stealthily 
set aside, but Carmen, after grateful pretence 
of hunger, was fain to make other disposition of 
the generous plateful, when her mother’s back 
was turned. Happily, no one observed that 
Muff was suffering from surfeit all day. 

There were but few household duties left to 
perform, but, such as they were, Carmen under- 
took them with feverish eagerness, the more so, 
( 188 ) 


UNROLLING THE WEB. 


189 


that she need take no part in the endless discus- 
sions and surmisings, searchings and siftings 
that were agitating the family from morning till 
night. It was very hard to hear Aunt Rosina’s 
unceasing lamentations, to see the green silk 
spread out again and again, while she would 
cry : — 

“ Confess, Riga, you tried to take the spots 
out. You took soap to it, you ignorant crea- 
ture ! I shouldn’t a bit wonder if you even took 
soft soap ! ” 

And overwhelmed with the suspicion of such 
a climax of depravity — poor Riga, her eyes 
swollen nearly shut, became so confused in her 
wretchedness, that she hardly made an effort to 
deny it. 

Aunt Ann had straightened the refractory 
accounts, and proved that Aunt Rosina had 
not lost any money. The little mother had 
counted her handkerchiefs, and proved that not 
one was missing. But “ the dress and the cor- 
als — the dress and the corals,” how could that 
be explained? And what satisfaction was she 
ever to. have ? Aunt Rosina demanded it with 
the constant dropping that wears away a stone. 


190 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ I wish they were both sunk fathoms deep in 
the Red Sea ! ” said Aunt Ann, by way of con- 
solation. 

“ And I wish father was home,” murmured 
poor Aunt Whitmore, as evening drew on. 
“ Then everything would come straight in a 
flash. Now I’m sure I don’t know whatever I 
had ought to do. Poor Riga ! poor motherless 
girl ! ” 

“ I declare, Carmen,” whispered Aunt Ann, 
“ sometimes it seems to me that you might throw 
some light on this matter. Though I may do 
you wrong,” she said, as the girl’s face grew 
crimson over the ruffle she was fluting for Aunt 
Whitmore. “ You’ve never been out but once 
this winter, to be sure, and then you wore your 
mother’s black silk.” She went away frowning 
over the mystery. 

The wretched, unhappy day dragged itself 
away, at last. Bernard and Yernon and Dick 
came in together just as the lamps were lighted. 
Carmen was so absorbed in a book that she 
scarcely raised her eyes, even when Yernon 
came to sit down by her side. 

“ You looked so pale last night,” said he, 


UNROLLING THE WEB. 


191 


“ you have haunted me all day ; and you don’t 
seem right yet.” He looked at her in a troub- 
led way ; — there was something in her face he 
could not understand. “ Can’t you lift your 
eyes one minute?” he continued. “I have 
brought you a present ; ” and he laid an im- 
mense bunch of hot-house grapes in her listless 
hand. 

“You don’t know who you are giving them 
to,” said Carmen, coldly, hardly moving a 
muscle. 

“ Take them, child,” whispered Aunt Ann, 
patronizingly. “He meant them for you this 
time ; he doesn’t want to bring Margaret every- 
thing. Don’t show your jealousy, Carmen.” 

But she put them from her decidedly, ungra- 
ciously. Vernon looked hurt, and tossed them 
to Jack, who was not inclined to quarrel with 
her good fortune. 

“ Have you made any farther discoveries to- 
day?” asked Bernard, breaking an uncomforta- 
ble silence. 

“ Yes,” said Aunt Rosina. “ I have discov- 
ered that Riga has spent a whole night out, 
every week since she has been here.” 


192 


ONE day’s WEAVING. 


4 4 1 let her go to stay with her sister — poor 
lame little creetur ! ” explained Aunt Whitmore. 

“ All very fair,” said Aunt Rosina, spitefully. 
“ It seems hard to have one’s own relations take 
part against them with a common thief. But 
my mind is made up, — patience has ceased to 
be a virtue — I am determined the girl shall be 
brought to trial. Then, if she has any friends, 
I may recover something.” 

“And bring us all up in court, Rosina?” 
cried the nervous little mother. 

“ And won’t it make a dreadful talk? ” cried 
Margaret, in alarm. 

“ The worst is,” said Aunt Whitmore, 
“ maybe the poor creeter haint done it. 
Wouldn’t it be better jest to keep it to our- 
selves? and I’ll send her away this very night.” 

“Excellent! excellent!” cried Aunt Rosina. 
“ And then nobody need suffer but I, and you 
could all bear that so cheerfully. If somebody 
was carrying off your silver spoons, Jane, maybe 
I could see that it was very right and Christian 
for you to run after the thief, and throw in ’the 
soup-ladle. But it isn’t my way. How do you 
suppose I shall ever make up that loss ? ” she 


UNROLLING THE WEB. 


193 


almost whimpered. “ Herbert doesn’t give me 
a silk dress every day, and with his boys and 
girls growing up around him, he is getting 
closer every year. No, the girl shall be brought 
to trial ! ” 

Dick arose, and went hastily out of the room. 
Carmen’s fingers worked nervously. 

“ This will kill me,” she said. “ I must tell 
it, or hate myself forever ! ” 

It is said that a person regarding a bright 
object, held very near to the eye, will presently 
fall into stupor. So it had been with Carmen. 
The dazzling things of the world had been held 
too near her soul’s eye, — she had had noble 
instincts, but they had been dulled and sleep- 
ing; now, at last, they are waking! “You 
seem so excited about something,” Margaret 
had said lately, with languid curiosity. Ex- 
cited? Yes, perhaps that was the right word. 
“ Excitement is only thorough awakening,” and 
Carmen was certainly very wide awake. Every 
nerve seemed bare, — a word or a look thrilled 
her like a shock from an electric battery. 
Carmen always knew after this, that it was a 
fearful thing to be thoroughly awake ! 

13 


194 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


And now what should she do? Twice she 
half rose, and then sank back again. How 
hard, how almost impossible to say those few 
words, to voluntarily unroll the shameful web, 
and hold it up for them all to look ! If it 
were only to thrust her hand in the fire, and 
hold it there till it shrivelled away, proud Car- 
men thought she could gladly have borne it in 
place of this torture. • 

Yernon had long been watching her, wonder- 
ing to see her cheeks kindle into such flame ; 
he thought several times she would speak. 

“ What is it, Carmen?” said he, lightly, at 
last. “ While she was musing, the fire burned, 
then spake she with her tongue.” 

How surprised he would be when he heard 
what she had to say ! He would never speak to 
her again in that kind, pleasant way. 

“ No one knows what to make of Carmen, 
now-a-days,” said Margaret, a little vexed at 
the unimportant part she was playing herself. 
“ She grows red and white and screws up her 
lips as if she were on the rack.” 

“ And I am, Margaret,” cried Carmen, ex- 
plosively. She did not trust herself another 


UNROLLING THE WEB. 


195 


minute, but resolutely came out and stood before 
them all. She could not be more wretched. 

“ Aunt Rosina,” said she, in the clearest 
tones, “ I am the only one to blame : Riga is 
innocent ! ” 

“You! you!” screamed Aunt Rosina. 

“Yes, I took the dress. I wore it to the 
party and ruined it, and I lost the coral.” 

Yernon rose hastily. “' I had an engagement 
to-night, I had almost forgotten,” he whispered 
to Bernard. “ Excuse me, and say good-night 
for me.” And he was gone. 

It was quite pitiable to see the little mother. 
“ She has been very feverish all day. I am 
quite sure she is flighty now,” said she, tremu- 
lously. “ Don’t you remember, dear, that you 
wore my black silk? You know you came to 
show me.” 

“ Yes, but I went back and changed it,” said 
Carmen, still in the steadiest voice. 

“ How hardened she is ! She doesn’t feel it 
in the least,” cried Aunt Ann, as very slowly 
and clearly she told every minute particular ; 
but to Bernard, the effort was so evident and 
painful that he turned away to wipe his eyes. 


196 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Dick had come back in the room, and was 
looking around in a bewildered way, not under- 
standing the scene. “What is it, mother?” 
he asked. 

“ Dear sakes ! dear sakes ! ” cried that good 
lady, and could get no farther. 

“And what have you to say, Carmen,” asked 
Aunt Ann, grimly, “ why you shouldn’t go to 
jail, where you were willing to send Riga?” 

“ I expected to,” said poor Carmen, faintly. 
“Ah ! she has told,” cried Dick, his whole face 
glowing. “Come here, dear! Come here, 
poor, pretty Carmen ! ” and he stretched out his 
strong, young arms. 

Carmen struggled to keep her composure, 
but the unexpected kindness was too much for 
her, and in another minute she was sobbing 
upon his shoulder. 

“That’s right ! ” cried Aunt Ann, “ pet her, 
spoil her, — make her think she is a heroine in- 
stead of a thief ! ” 

“There are two thieves, Aunt Ann,” said 
Dick, holding her tighter. “ I’m just as much 
to blame as she is ; we did it together.” 

“ Oh, no ! no ! ” cried Carmen. 


UNROLLING THE WEB. 


197 


“ Oh, yes,” said Aunt Ann, sarcastically. 
“ That’s a boy’s taste. Of course he wanted 
the silk dress and gim-cracks for his own wear- 
mg.” 

Dick laughed a little. “ Well, I aided, and 
encouraged, and abetted,” said he. 

“ O, Dicky, Dicky ! ” said Aunt Whitmore, 
mournfully. “And I’ve brought you up to 
scorn to touch a pin ! ” 


CHAPTER X. 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 

UNT ROSINA, who had been almost 
choked with indignation, was finding 
her voice at last. 

“So it was really you, Carmen ! ” 
she cried. “ Who would have thought,— when 
I had the kindness to show you all those beau- 
tiful things, — that I was cherishing such a 
viper? A girl that would do such a thing as 
that wouldn’t stop at anything mean and dis- 
honorable. I never should trust her again ! 
I’m sorry for you , Lucy,” she said, as the little 
mother burst into tears. “ But I must just 
speak my mind once, since it is all the satisfac- 
tion I shall ever get.” 

Carmen looked at her, wistfully. 

“ You needn’t stare any longer,” she cried, 
irritably. “ Of course I have some family 
( 198 ) 



THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 199 


pride ; and of course, you foolish child, I never 
thought of sending you to jail. I don’t care to 
blaze it abroad that I have a niece who steals, 
especially as it won’t bring back the dress.” 

“ You shall be paid every cent for the dress, 
if you’ll only stop saying such insulting things,” 
cried Dick, very red. “It wasn't stealing, we 
didn’t think of such a thing ! ” 

“ I can’t help what you thought,” began 
Aunt Rosina. “ If taking another person’s 
property without their consent ” — 

“ I am sure, Rosina,” anxiously interposed 
the little mother, who had been turning over in 
her mind what new economy she could possibly 
practice — “I am sure I could pay you in a 
year. I’m afraid it couldn’t be sooner. If you 
will only wait a year ” — 

Carmen could not bear anything farther, and 
disengaging herself from Dick’s arms, she 
walked out of the room, feeling, as she escaped 
from the eyes of Aunt Ann, and Aunt Rosina, 
something of the dull relief of a wounded 
soldier, when he is removed from under murder- 
ous fire. 

The little mother stole softly after her, but 


200 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


not unnoticed ; and she had hardly reached the lit- 
tle room, — smoothing Carmen’s hair and kissing 
her, in spite of her faults, — when Aunt Ann 
looked in, to say, — 

“ No weakness now, Lucy — I was afraid of 
it ! You have almost ruined your child by too 
much tenderness. Come away now, and let 
her feel what she has done. She has disgraced 
the family, and I could have prophesied it from 
the moment I first set eyes upon her. I have 
always warned her against this foolish, wicked 
pride, and now see what it has brought her to. 
She has done something which will stamp her 
for life ! ” 

Carmen, as usual, began to hum a tune. 

The little mother drew the horrified Aunt 
Ann out of the room. “ You don’t know what 
you are doing ! ” she cried, with unusual spirit. 
“ You don’t know Carmen as I do, you are 
driving her crazy with such severity.” 

“ I have been severe,” assented Aunt Ann, 
“ but she is so hardened. We ought to make 
her feel a little.” 

“ She feels more than you can possibly im- 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 201 


“Tut, tut!” cried Aunt Ann, “let me 
once see her beginning to reform, and I won’t 
grudge her an encouraging word.” 

‘ 6 What if God should treat us so ? ” said the 
little mother, tremulously. 

“ Mother,” called Carmen, — from the bed, 
where she was already lying, — and as she 
came, she put her arms around her neck, and 
drew her down to whisper something. 

The little mother seemed greatly astonished. 

“ Do you think you can part with it? ” she 
asked. 

Carmen nodded her head, eagerly. 

“It is yours, dear, you may do what you 
like with it. Perhaps it is right and best ;” and 
kissing her once more, she went away, for 
Carmen, with a long sigh, was turning to the 
wall as if she would like to sleep. 

But twice again was Carmen disturbed that 
night. First came Margaret. 

“Are you asleep, Carmen? O, I thought 
not. How could you do such a mean thing? 
You must have looked very pretty though,” she 
said, with a curious regret in her tone. “But 
how could you do it, after all ! I was just 


202 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


thinking about the night of my birthday, and 
that talk we had about Joe Warner. Do you 
remember, Carmen ? ” 

Carmen started. She had entirely forgotten 
it. How strange it was ! And what did 
Margaret mean by reminding her of it now? 
She surely did not mean to suggest any parallel 
between herself and that boy she had so de- 
spised ! And yet, why not? Hadn’t they 
both — from pride, and desire to make a fine 
appearance — taken another person’s property ? 
To be sure, Joe had taken money, but, they 
said he had meant to return it, — perhaps just 
as fully as she had meant to carry back the 
dress. Where then, was the great difference 
between them? Besides, — she remembered 
with shame, — the parallel went still farther. 

If he had allowed the other clerk to be sus- 
pected, she, also, had been willing to see poor 
Riga suffer a night and day of misery. What 
was there to choose between them ? This was 
indeed humiliation. Why had she gone on so 
blindly? Why had she not thought of all this, 
before it was too late ? 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 203 


The shuttle of pride was at last dropping 
from Carmen’s fingers. 

“And what high notions Vernon has about 
some things,” continued the persistent Mar- 
garet. “ Do you remember what he said 
about Joe, — that he could never again respect 
him as a friend ? ” 

A little sharp needle of pain darted through 
Carmen’s temples. 

“What a good memory you have, Mar- 
garet ! ” she said, bitterly. 

“ O, we have often talked over these sub- 
jects since,” said Margaret, complacently, 
“ and our views correspond perfectly. If you 
could only have known how you shocked us 
both, to-night ! Vernon looked so horrified. 
I suppose you know that he ran right off, as if 
he couldn’t bear to hear another word.” 

“ Did he?” said Carmen, faintly. 

“ Yes, but I don’t think he meant to hurt 
your feelings. He couldn’t help the first sur- 
prise you know, but when that is over, I am 
quite sure, judging from myself, that he will 
try to treat you with the greatest kindness.” 

It was very hard to be patronized by weak, 
shallow Margaret. 


204 


ONE DAY'S WEAVING. 


“ Yes,” continued she, encouraged 'to greater 
magnanimity by Carmen’s unusual docility — 
“ we will both do anything in our power to help 
you. I know from the way he looked that he 
was just as sorry for you as I am.” 

“ Margaret,” cried Carmen, quickly, “ there 
is something I said that evening, that I should 
like to have you remember.” 

“What?” asked Margaret, a little appre- 
hensively. 

“ I said that if I ever fell in that way, I didn’t 
want any one to pity me, and I don't. Please 
go away.” 

“ O, I beg your pardon,” said Margaret, 
greatly offended. “ If you feel in that way, I 
certainly shall not intrude my sympathy.” 

After she was gone, Carmen lay for a long 
time with her hands pressed to her throbbing 
head. At last she saw the full consequences of 
her folly. 

“ My punishment is very heavy,” she mur- 
mured. “ I have lost the respect and confidence 
of Vernon, — and everybody.” 

The door creaked slightly again, but she 
neither spoke nor stirred. 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 205 


“ She’s asleep,” said a voice, in tender satis- 
faction. 44 Good-night, dear ! good-night, dear, 
pretty Carmen ! ” 

“ O, Dicky!” cried Carmen, “don’t be so 
kind. You are breaking my heart.” 

“ No, it was just broken before, dear,” said 
Dick. “They were too hard upon you, — it 
was shameful ! How they did sweep down 
upon you ! But I’ll tell you just what came in 
my head — then a great whirlwind passed by, 
but 4 the Lord was not in the wind.’ ” 

“Thank you, Dick,” said Carmen, “but I 
am almost more afraid of the 4 still, small 
voice.’ ” 

44 And so am I, to tell the truth,” said Dick. 
44 Don’t you think, Carmen,” he added in a 
whisper, 44 we had better take our webs to be 
dipped ? ” 

44 You could, Dicky, for you have done 
nothing mean. It seems as if one could ask 
God to forgive sins, and great sins, too, but if 
you bring him meanness, baseness, cowardice, 
it seems as if He must turn away just as — just 
as,” — Carmen could not finish, as Margaret’s 
picture of Vernon’s surprise and aversion came. 


206 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


vividly before her. “Oh, Dick!” she said, 
vehemently, “ it is dreadful to have God angry, 
but isn’t it a great deal worse to have Him 
disgusted ? ” 

“ O, Carmen, what a queer, strange girl you 
are ! You’ve confessed every word, haven’t 
you ? And God knows it was brave. He 
knows it was just like taking your life.” 

But Carmen only sobbed, — “ Take both the 
webs, Dick. Ask for both of us. I cannot go 
to-night.” 

And poor Dick, greatly troubled, not know- 
ing exactly the proper thing to say, stole softly 
away. 

Hour after hour Carmen’s eyes were wide and 
staring, — she almost thought she should never 
sleep again. “Is it possible,” she asked her- 
self unceasingly, “ for me ever to regain this 
respect which I have lost. If I should earn 
every cent of the money myself, and pay Aunt 
Rosina — what then ? They would at least 
know that I meant to be honest,” she sighed ; 
and she gave her busy brain no rest till she had 
reviewed every possible plan for the accomplish- 
ment of this end, and had decided upon the one 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 207 


that seemed most feasible. Then, at last, she 
sank into troubled sleep, but awoke with 
the first streak of light. She had never had 
such a sorrowful night before, in all her healthy, 
rosy life. Now, however, there was some re- 
lief in action, and Carmen, dressing herself, and 
putting on bonnet and cloak, stole softly down 
the stairs. Riga was already stirring, and as 
Carmen caught a glimpse of her through the 
kitchen door, she gave a great sigh of relief, 
to see her face rosy and smiling as ever. After 
the most furious storm of wind and rain, the 
way-side pool becomes calm in a few short min- 
utes, while the sea must heave in long swelling 
waves for days. 

Down to the river bank went Carmen, and 
over the ice, to the city sparkling in the morn- 
ing sunlight. She had very few acquaintances 
there, and they did not live, in the handsome 
squares of brown stone houses. A few of those 
grand people she had met at the Hammonds 
that night, and they had noticed her, and 
smiled on her, but probably their paths in life 
would never cross again. She should probably 
never go out in society again, she thought, with 
a half sob. 


208 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


On she went, past all these pleasant homes, 
till she came to a quiet street, and knocked at a 
most unpretending door. 

Little Miss Kavlin came to open it herself. 
She had been the village dress-maker, but grow- 
ing ambitious, had gone to the city, where she 
had gradually attained to great prosperity, hav- 
ing, as she volubly informed Carmen, six sew- 
ing girls at that very moment in her employ. 
She was a little disappointed — as Carmen ex- 
plained her errand, — to find she had not 
another new customer. 

“You were always a favorite of mine, Miss 
Hastings,” she said, after some hesitation, “ and 
I know you can sew very nicely, but I have so 
many girls, — and my expenses are such” — 

“ But I will sew cheaper than anybody else,” 
interrupted Carmen, eagerly. “I will take 
anything you please to give me.” 

“ And then you live so far away,” — still de- 
murred Miss Ravlin. 

“ That shall not make any difference. I will 
have the work here at the very hour you say. 
I will bring it myself — so there shall be no 
mistake.” She took up a walking-dress, 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 209 


marked in elaborate pattern, ready to be em- 
broidered in beads. “Let me do this, dear 
Miss Ravlin,” she entreated. “ You have no 
idea how quickly I shall have it done.” 

“ And what would you think you ought to 
have for it ? ” asked the sharp little dress-maker. 

“ Whatever you think is right.” 

Miss Ravlin named a sum shamefully low for 
the hours of toil ; but inexperienced Carmen, for 
answer, began to fold the work in nervous 
haste. 

“That is, if it is well done,” said she, half 
repenting that she had offered so much. “ I 
cannot give any such price for poor work.” 

“I’m sure you will be satisfied,” cried Car- 
men. “ Thank you, thank you, Miss Ravlin, 
I shall never forget your kindness ! ” and she 
hastened away with a manner so strangely excit- 
ed, that the little dress-maker looked after her 
in great uneasiness, wondering if she hadn’t 
made a mistake in entrusting her with such rich 
materials ; she was always a wild, flighty girl 
— what if she should never see them again ! 

But Carmen was already around the corner, 
with her mind set upon another errand she had 
14 


210 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


to accomplish. She turned into the business 
street, where the stores were just waking up, and 
opening their great glass eyes, and paused be- 
fore one, where silver and gold, chains, brace- 
lets, and rings, were flashing in delightful con- 
fusion. Just one minute she waited to untwine 
from her neck the glittering links of the dear 
Spanish chain, — worn for the last time, she 
thought. She passed her hand caressingly over 
it — this sole relic of the past grandeur of her 
family. What beautiful dreams had been strung 
upon every link, like prayers upon a rosary ! 
But she had no right to keep it now, nor any- 
thing else that could bring money to pay this 
dreadful debt ! Carmen considered. 

‘ ‘ The chain will bring almost a hundred 
dollars, — perhaps quite, and the money for 
the ear-ring I shall earn very soon. Then, 
perhaps they will respect me again — at least, 
Aunt Rosina cannot reproach me any more. 

She looked at the chain once more, and then 
went in, pressing it furtively to her lips. It 
was glittering with something besides gold as 
she handed it to the jeweller. 

“ Very pretty,” said he, “ but old-fashioned, 

































% 























# 


✓ 

































































\ 















THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 211 


very ; seems to be good gold, but no one would 
buy it in this shape. It is only good for melt- 
ing.” Carmen started. “ I will give you ten 
dollars for it, which is a large price ; but I’d 
advise you to keep it, Miss. If it’s been in your 
family any time, it ought to be worth more 
than that to you .” 

Carmen looked at him in blank amazement. 
Ten dollars for that exquisite piece of workman- 
ship ! that perfect mine of wealth, as she had 
always thought it ! She could not clutch it 
quickly enough as he, with a half smile, held it 
out to her. He must be an unprincipled fellow ! 
she thought ; but a trial at two or three other 
stores, attended with even less success, greatly 
discouraged her, and she turned sadly home- 
ward ta think over the matter. 

On the ice she met Dick, on his way to 
school, taking a lift in a countryman’s wagon. 
He sprang off when he saw her. 

“ How bad you are ! ” said he, chafing her 
cold fingers in his great, warm hands. “If 
you only knew how I worried when I found 
you were gone this morning ! You looked so 
desperate last night. Why, I’ve been almost 


212 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


afraid to draw a pail of water, for fear of find- 
ing one of your shoes in the bucket ! You 
ought always to tell me everything you are 
going to do, child,” said he, with delicious pat- 
ronage. “And always try to remember my 
delicate nerves I ” his broad shoulders shook 
with the fun of the idea. 

Carmen replied with the ghost of a smile. 

“ Now tell me just what you’ve been about, 
and quick, too,” demanded Dick. “I’m late 
this minute ! ” 

And Carmen, in spite of herself, was obliged 
to yield up the morning’s disappointment to his 
pertinacious sympathy. 

Dick whistled. “ So that’s what you’ve got 
in your head ! I don’t know but it’s right, but 
do you really want to sell your own pretty 
chain?” he asked, incredulously. 

“ Didn’t I say so once ! ” said Carmen, with 
an impatience, Dick knew how to forgive. 

“Well, give it to me then. I’m sure I can 
do better, and I’ll be glad to sell it, too, 
because there have been times, when I was 
horribly jealous of it. I’m sure you liked it 
bettter than me I ” 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 213 


Dick laughed again, but grew suddenly 
grave at sight of two round tears in Carmen’s 
eyes. 

“ How this cold air does sting ! ” said he, 
wiping them away. “There, there, I almost 
feel as if I ought to go back with you. I’m 
afraid you’ll have a hard time in the galleys to- 
day, and your fellow-convict ought to be there 
to take his share.” 

“No, no, you know you are not to blame. 
Didn’t you show me all the time how you dis- 
approved of it? No, no one is bad enough to 
be in the same boat with me ! ” and pushing 
him away, she ran swiftly in the other di- 
rection. 

As Carmen reached home, and passed 
through the sitting-room, little Jack called out 
anxiously, — 

“You wouldn’t take my best white apron, 
with tucks and edging, would you, Carmen? 
It would be a great deal too small for you, 
wouldn’t it, Carmen?” 

There was an uneasy giggle from the sofa. 
“I told her so, just for fun,” said Margaret. 

Carmen stopped and looked at Margaret, 


214 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


and looked at her, and looked at her still, till 
her cheeks grew warm, and the giggle came to 
an untimely end. Yery strangely, her feelings 
of complacency and superiority seemed to melt 
away under that look, and she didn’t sufficiently 
enjoy the joke ever to repeat it again. 

But this was not the only stab awaiting 
unhappy Carmen. She had gone with her 
bundle to Aunt Rosina’s room, to explain 
what she was intending to do. Aunt Rosina, 
herself, answered the knock, opening the door 
upon the merest crack. Carmen displayed the 
bundle. 

“I shall be able to pay you everything in 
two or three months, at farthest,” she said. 
“ You will not have to wait a year.” 

“And how much do you get for this?” 
asked Aunt Rosina, examining the intricate 
pattern. 

“A dollar!” said Carmen, with some pride. 

“A dollar for a week’s work, at least!” 
cried Aunt Rosina. “At that rate it will take 
just a little over two years, and your good 
resolutions may possibly hold out two weeks ! 
O, there’s an excellent prospect of having my 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 215 


losses made up, excellent ! ” she cried, her 
indignation rising, as slie thought of it. “ Go 
away, Carmen, I don’t feel as if I ever could 
forgive you ! ” 

“ But Aunt Rosina,” cried Carmen, passion- 
ately, “it shall not take two years. I shall 
work day and night ! ” 

“ I know what a girl’s impulses are worth,” 
said Aunt Rosina, coldly,” and you are one 
of the weakest of them.” 

Carmen saw that it was useless to say any 
more. She must try to be patient till she 
could come with performance in place of 
promise. 

“What are you waiting for?” asked Aunt 
Rosina, impatiently. 

“ I left a spool of silk here a day or two 
ago, may I come in and get it?” for Aunt 
Rosina was still holding the door at a most 
inhospitable angle. 

“ I will find it for you,” said she, stiffly. 
“ I am packing, and my things are lying 
around everywhere. I would rather you 
wouldn’t come in.” 

Aunt Rosina’s small nature couldn’t resist 


216 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


the temptation of this thrust. She must get 
what satisfaction she could. 

Carmen looked at her a moment, repeating 
the words over slowly, before their meaning 
flashed upon her. Then her head throbbed 
with a sudden rush of riotous blood. 

“ This is a cruel insult ! Aunt Rosina,” she 
cried. “ I don’t think I shall ever be able to 
forgive you ! ” 

“If you could only have seen her!” said 
Aunt Rosina, detailing it afterwards to Aunt 
Ann, “such a temper! it was enough to 
frighten one. I am so glad I have decided to 
go, and shall only be one more night under the 
same roof with her.” 

In the meantime, Carmen was thinking in 
her room, — “And this is Carmen, the proud 
Carmen, who wanted everybody to envy her ! 
God has punished her. He has left her alone, 
and she has gone of her own free will to sit 
down in the dust with Joe Warner ! ” 

In vain did her mother, — finding her an 
hour afterwards, sewing with stiffened fingers, 
— beg her to come down by the fire. 

“I cannot come to-day,” said Carmen, 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 217 


briefly relating what had passed ; and the little 
mother, scarcely less wretched, did not urge it, 
but contented herself with wrapping her in 
shawls, and bringing a foot-stove, with great, 
red, comfortable coals. 

4 ‘Don’t be so kind, mother,” said Carmen. 
“ You will make me cry, and I haven’t time for 
that. I want every minute for my work.” 
And she turned again to the patient stringing 
of her beads. 

Aunt Ann made her a call in the afternoon, 
and, — as she saw the beautiful pattern fast 
growing under Carmen’s fingers, and noticed 
the firm lines around her mouth, and the eyes 
never raised from her work, — she was con- 
scious of a faint feeling of admiration. She 
could understand grit and determination, — it 
was the very groundwork of her own char- 
acter, — but it would not do to express the ap- 
probation. On the contrary, she had come to 
make one more effort to impress upon the cold, 
proud girl, some fitting sense of her misdeeds. 

“You have shown yourself a true descend- 
ant of that wretched woman ! ” said Aunt Ann, 
after a long exordium, during all of which, Car- 


218 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


men had been busy on a calculation : if she could 
do three leaves and a half, in an hour, how 
long would it take to work a whole breadth? 
But these last words caught her attention. 

‘ ‘ What wretched woman , Aunt Ann ? ” she 
asked. 

“Your own natural mother, Eve!” said 
she, severely. “ She never cared for what she 
had done. If the sacred writers had been a 
little more free, I am sure they would have 
told us she was just tickled to death when she 
found she was going to have new clothes, if 
they were'nt anything but fig-leaves ! She care 
for eating that apple? She’d have eaten a 
peck, if she had thought it would have brought 
her a silk dress and a diamond ring ! ” 

Carmen would have smiled at this once, but 
her heart was too heavy now. 

“ I believe you’re about right,” said Aunt 
Whitmore, who had been standing in the door, 
lost in admiration of Aunt Ann’s eloquence. 
“ It’s jest wonderful how little will keep folks 
out of heaven. Satan has all kinds of stum- 
bling blocks to put in people’s way, but with 
most women, I think, he jest stretches a bit of 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 219 


ribbon, or drops a piece of colored glass, and 
they can’t step over it, no way. Ain’t that true, 
Carmen ? ” 

“ Yes, aunt,” said she, humbly, greatly to 
the old lady’s surprise. 

“ Air you going to let such things keep you 
out?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know!” said 
she, covering her face, while the tears trickled 
through her fingers. 

“ They are tears of anger and pride,” thought 
Aunt Ann, suspiciously. “ One never knows 
when to trust Carmen.” 

“ Ann ! Ann ! ” cried Aunt Rosina, her 
voice shrilling through the halls, and penetrat- 
ing to this furthest room like a small gong. 

Aunt Ann, not too willingly, went. 

“ You do want to be better, sometimes, don’t 
you, child ? ” said Aunt Whitmore, her tender 
heart quite melted at the girl’s tears. “ You’ve 
done a bad thing, O, a very wrong thing, my 
dear, but you’re very sorry, I know.” 

“ Indeed I am ! ” said Carmen, quite broken 
down. “ I can’t begin to tell you how wretched 
lam!” 


220 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“Well, I expect you’d ought to feel sorry 
for a while. It’s the right kind of feelin’s, and 
I think it’s the Lord’s angels cornin’ to your 
heart.” 

Aunt Ann had hastened back, and caught 
the last words. “ What a deep girl Carmen 
is!” she thought. “Now she is imposing 
upon poor Jane, who is coddling her.” And, 
conscientiously feeling that it might be fatal to 
Carmen’s eternal welfare to encourage her too 
soon, she cried, — 

“ What’s this about angels coming to Car- 
men ? I hope it is all right, but it would be 
wiser and safer for us all to humbly remember 
that the Lord once sent angels to Sodom, and 
afterwards destroyed the place. Now I don’t 
know what Matthew Henry thinks, but my 
opinion is ” — 

“ Aunt Ann,” said Carmen, her tears sud- 
denly dried, and her face grown hard, “ this is 
a subject that don’t interest me, in the least. 
Won’t you please talk it over with Aunt Whit- 
more somewhere else ? ” 

In spite of her indignation, Aunt Ann could 
not refrain from a little nod of triumph at Aunt 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE WEAVERS. 221 


Whitmore, as much as to say, “ You see I was 
right, — she is thoroughly hardened ! ” 

Aunt Whitmore gave a most troubled shake 
of the head in return, feeling keenly in her 
good heart, that some one was very wrong be- 
sides Carmen, but not knowing how to put her 
thoughts in judicious words. 

“ Car men,” said Aunt Ann, “I believe I 
must give you my opinion of you.” 

“ I will save you the trouble,” cried Carmen, 
quickly. “ Pve heard it, on an average, twice, 
every day since I first came here. Selfish, 
vain, indolent, deceitful, proud, ambitious, and ” 
— Carmen hesitated, and then added, defiantly, 
“ and dishonest . Have I left anything out?” 

Poor Aunt Whitmore worked her fingers 
nervously. She had a feeling that Carmen was 
like some poor, hunted animal at bay. She 
was really not so bad ; but again the good 
lady, — with her abundant charity, but lacking 
the tongues of men and angels, — failed to 
wreak her thought upon expression. 

The sudden entrance of Dick, and Helen and 
Jack, was a great relief to everybody. 

Dick, feeling that something was wrong, 


222 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


immediately dashed off in the details of some 
merry adventure, at which his mother laughed 
loudly. But this didn’t make amends for Car- 
men’s grave face, which he watched with in- 
creasing disappointment. She did not even 
smile when he thrust a roll of bills in her hand, 
whispering, — 

“ I’ve had splendid luck, Carmen. I’ve sold 
the chain for fifty dollars ! ” 

The judgment of the weavers was very bitter 
to her. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 

INTER had given place to Spring. 
Aunt Rosin a had been gone several 
weeks, and Uncle Whitmore was 
“ again at home. His business had not 

prospered as he hoped ; he had not been able 
to make any advantageous sale of his land, and 
his expenses had been large. Still he was 
cheerful as ever, and always talking of his bless- 
ings, although there had to be more careful 
thought than ever over each penny spent, and 
Riga had been sent away. Riga, who had 
parted from them all with many tears, espe- 
cially clinging to Carmen, who had enriched her 
wardrobe with the famous blue merino, and a 
whole box* full of ribbons. 

No one could reproach Carmen with indolence 
now. Every day she went through her allotted 
( 223 ) 


224 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


tasks, and often part of Margaret’s, swiftly and 
silently, with none of the old fretfulness that 
used to afford Aunt Ann such excellent openings 
for her homilies. Then, after the housework, 
there was one regular routine ; Carmen instantly 
withdrew to the little room, to take up the end- 
less sewing. Little Miss Ravlin had been 
pleased with her new sewing-girl, whom she 
had found so swift and neat, and willing to 
sew for such ridiculously low prices. She 
never failed to give her abundance of work. 
This constant employment was only varied by 
the occasional exercise of taking the completed 
garments home. Sometimes accompanied by 
Dick, but oftener alone, she made her trips, — 
now that the ice was gone, borrowing a boat of 
old Jimmy, and rowing herself across with a 
strong, even sweep of the oar. 

She was almost sure that Uncle Whitmore 
had heard the whole story, but, to her great 
relief, he never made any allusion to it. Only 
occasionally he patted her head kindly, as 
she passed through the garden with her bun- 
dles, and told her not to work too hard, 
although she felt sure that she read in his pleas- 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 


225 


ant grey eyes perfect approval of what she was 
trying to do. 

Very little was said to her now on the subject, 
by any on&. The first sharp impression of her 
offence was dulling a little with time, she 
thought, and other events were crowding it 
out with fresher interest. But Carmen, her- 
self, never forgot. — “To the old sorrow is 
sorrow, but to the young it is despair .” — 
She had never been in spirits to join the home 
circle in the evening, since the sad night of the 
confession. Various were the excuses for her 
absence. She was tired with sewing, — her 
head ached, — she was very sleepy and must 
go to bed, — and after a little urging and re- 
monstrance at the first, Carmen’s strong will 
had its way ; and Margaret was not altogether 
sorry. 

Vernon came often, after business hours were 
over, and he was home from the city, but it was 
only rarely that he obtained even a glimpse of 
Carmen. At first, little Jack came climbing 
up with many a kind message. 

“ Thank him, and ask him to please excuse 
me to-night,” was the invariable answer ; and 
15 


226 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


finally she had no farther trouble, — he did not 
ask for her any more. 

“ I cannot see him,” said Carmen, to herself, 
“ till I have earned all the money, aftd can ask 
him whether he can ever respect me again.” 

Neither had Carmen been once to church 
since the unhappy day, and neither entreaties 
nor upbraidings had had the least effect upon 
her. Dick came to her one day, at the little 
mother’s tearful request. 

“ Carmen, do you hear the bells? It is time 
to go to church. You must go with me to- 
day.” 

“ O, don’t ask me, Dick,” pleaded Carmen. 
“ I don’t want to speak to anybody.” 

“Why, nobody knows” said Dick. “I’ll 
give you my word for it, — nothing that hap- 
pened that night has ever been spoken of out 
of the family. Not another soul knows — that 
is, excepting Yernon, and he’s a noble fellow, 
Carmen ! he won’t even look at you if you don’t 
want him to. Now you must try and go to- 
day ; — it looks so strange, you know. Be- 
sides, father wanted me to tell you that he 
specially requested it.” 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 


227 


“ Then I suppose I must,” said Carmen, 
rising quietly and tying on her bonnet. 

“Isn’t that a winter bonnet, though?” 

7 o 

asked Dick, looking in some dissatisfaction at 
the dark, heavy plush. 

“Yes,” said Carmen, indifferently. “I 
haven’t had time to see about another.” 

“ And where’s your best dress? You are 
not going to wear that black stuff, you’ve had 
on every day this three months. By the way, I 
believe you’ve worn it ever since — why Car- 
men, one would think you were in mourning ! ’> 
“ And I am, Dick. I’m mourning for some- 
thing I’ve lost, I’m afraid forever.” She burst 
into tears. 

Oh, Carmen, how you have changed!” 
cried Dick, regretfully. “You used to be so 
proud and bright, and now, one would hardly 
know you. I’m sure this must be what they 
call being ‘ swallowed up with overmuch sor- 
row.’ You’ve just been sitting up here all 
alone every day, eating up your own heart, and 
now I’m going to put a stop to it. I was half 
sorry for you a few minutes ago, but I shant 
encourage this nonsense. You must go to 


228 


* 

ONE 'DAY’S WEAVING. 

church to-day, if I have to carry you ! ” and 
Dick went off for a consultation with the little 
mother. 

The difficulty about the bonnet had been 
foreseen. A plain straw with pale blue trim- 
mings had already been prepared, and Carmen 
allowed it to be tied under her chin. 

“You look so pretty again, dear;” 
whispered Dick, craftily, thinking to himself, 
“ Now she will just give a glance in the little 
mirror, and I shall have hopes of her.” 

But, to his great disappointment, she passed 
it by, — “Just as if it had been a stove-pipe 
hole,” he sighed, very disconsolately following 
after. 

It was quite a trial to Carmen to meet alljthe 
old acquaintances. They had heard she was 
not well ; and she did look very pale. Was it 
anything of a fever, or was it a cold she had 
taken? with many other kind inquiries, which 
Carmen managed to answer with something of 
her old smile, very glad, however, when she 
was at last in the church, and could sink into 
the shelter of the high-backed pew. They were 
quite early, and in the interval before the be- 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 229 


ginning of the service, Carmen remembered 
how the very last time she had sat there, she 
had read over again her favorite passage about 
the proud cedar. Now a strange curiosity- 
possessed her to read the remainder of the 
chapter, and she took up the Bible at her 
side. 

“ Therefore, thus saith the Lord God,” she 
read. “ Because thou hast lifted up thyself in 
height, and he hath shot up his top among the 
thick boughs, and his heart is lifted up in his 
height, * * * # therefore, his branches 

are fallen, and his boughs are broken by all the 
rivers of the land ; and all the people of the 
earth are gone down from his shadow, and have 
left him. * * * * To the end that none 

of all the trees by the waters exalt themselves 
for their height, neither shoot up their top — .” 

Carmen’s eyes were too full to read any more. 
“ And is this the judgment of the King?” she 
said despairingly to herself. 

But now a faint strain of music fell upon 
her ear, — low as if it came from a far distance, 
and so sweet it might have fallen from heaven. 
Carmen thought she had never heard anything 


230 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


like it. It was a minor strain, and, as she 
listened, it seemed to her excited imagination 
that it was some soul grieving over a great sin, 
— now despairing, now entreating, sobbing, 
imploring, — her heart sank and rose with 
every cadence and swell. It was certainly a 
prayer in music, and, faint and low as it was, 
Carmen felt that those throbbing waves must 
be beating against God’s- throne. O, was 
there pardon, hope, for that soul? She almost 
held her breath. A little more doubt, which 
she could scarcely endure, and then suddenly 
there was a modulation, managed with exquisite 
skill, — the strain became more hopeful though 
not exultant, and the soul, — or was it Car- 
men’s self? she hardly knew, — seemed, in 
those harmonies, to come wonderingly down 
through penitent pain to involuntary, but hap- 
piest tears. The closing chords were only 
expressive of the deepest, sweetest rest. 

“Carmen,” whispered Margaret, giving her 
elbow no gentle push, “ you are making a per- 
fect fool of yourself!” and Carmen mechanically 
wiped away the streaming tears. 

She had time to recover herself in the prayer, 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 231 


which seemed in her excitement, a little cold. 
Everything now stood out in such a vivid light. 
She was not satisfied when the good minister 
prayed so calmly and gently that his flock 
might grow in the grace and knowledge of the 
Lord. What if in place of all those pleasant, 
healthful bodies , sitting before him in decent 
apparel, — what if he could, see the souls in- 
stead, — some of .them sick unto death, — most 
of them feeble, tottering, and some, — oh, 
always some , — whom Satan was desiring to 
sift as wheat ! Ah, why did not the good man 
remember this? Why did he not pray eagerly , 
— with all his might — that their strength fail 
not ! 

But after the prayer came the reading of 
the wonderful Book, which never fails nor dis- 
appoints, — which has a word of comfort for 
every sorrow. Carmen listened eagerly as he 
read : “ For we have not an high priest which 

cannot be touched with the feeling of our in- 
firmities ; but was in all points tempted like as 
we are.” 

“ Touched with the feeling of our infirmi- 
ties ; ” said Carmen to herself. “And this 


232 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


is the King’s son! he has been tempted, — he 
knows all about it, and he is sorry for me, 
Carmen ! ” 

A new, strange feeling arose in the impulsive 
heart, a quick outgoing of grateful love to 
him who was sorry for her, with deeper shame 
for the past unworthy life which had grieved 
him. And what would the King himself say ? 
she thought. How often she had sat there 
before, with eyes fixed upon the minister, in 
seeming devout attention, while her thoughts 
were in the great, fascinating world, revelling 
in all kinds of imaginary triumphs and delights ? 
while the words made no more impression upon 
her than the murmur of some distant fountain. 
But to-day everything was changed, — nothing 
could divert her ; she must not lose a word, for, 
she had said to herself, in her unreasoning 
excitement. — “ Whatever are the words of the 
text, I shall receive them as a message from 
the King ! ” 

The good minister could not see the fiery, 
impatient soul, trembling twixt hope and des- 
pair, or perhaps he would not have read the 
notices so slowly, adjusted his spectacles s> 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 233 


carefully, and raised the glass of water to his 
lips. But at last it could be put off no longer, 
and he announced in the solemn hush : — 

“ Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ 
that died.” 

O, words of infinite beauty and comfort ! 
words inspired by the King — plank that has 
saved many a drowning soul, despairing in 
deep waters ! 

Carmen sat as one in a happy dream. It 
might be that the King did not disdain to send 
a special message to souls waiting as hers. 
Who is he that condemneth? What if Aunt 
Rosina had loaded her with insults ? What if 
Aunt Ann thought there was a hopeless taint 
of evil in her character — that she never could 
be trusted again ? What if Margaret, fair and 
proper outwardly, from her youth up, should 
draw aside her clean skirts, always looking 
with pitying surprise upon her spattered gar- 
ments? What if Vernon even, could never 
again think of her just as he had done? All 
was not lost. Her faults and sufferings had 
touched a greater heart, even that of the 
King’s son ! — how sweet it was ! — and the 


334 


ONE DAY'S WEAVING. 


messenger of the King himself, said — ‘ ‘ Who is 
he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died.” 

This was enough for Carmen, and in the 
tumult of her happy thoughts she heard noth- 
ing farther, till the very last of the discourse. 
Then the words of comfort had been explained 
and applied, and the good man, — to the timid 
souls overwhelmed with their own unworthi- 
ness, — was saying, in the works of the King’s 
son to the woman which was a sinner, — “ Go 
in peace.” He did not say, go in happiness ; it 
was only those whose life-work was done, who 
were bidden to enter into the joy of their Lord. 
But peace was a wonderful and blessed gift! 
Heaven knew its value. When the angels sang, 
“ Glory to God in the highest,” it was that on 
earth should be peace. When Jesus was soon 
to leave the disciples he so tenderly loved, one 
of his last legacies was peace : — ‘ ‘ Peace I leave 
with you, my peace I give unto you : not as 
the world giveth, give I unto you.” . Not 
earthly happiness and joy, in which is unrest — 
the wise King knew a better gift. He knew 
what was safest, and most blessed for his 
children. Go in peace the peace of God — so 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 235 


deep and sweet that it passeth all understand- 
ing. 

There was silence for a few minutes, and 
then a few chords on the organ were followed 
by a clear tenor voice — chanting slowly, — 

44 Come unto me, all ye that labor and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” 

The service was over. 

44 Carmen, said Margaret, plucking her 
angrily by the sleeve, 44 1 believe you are 
losing your senses I Don’t you see every one 
is going ? ” 

And Carmen, the trouble and unrest all gone 
from her face, arose, and went in peace. 

Mabel Hammond met her very affectionately 
at the door. 

“ Why Carmen you have been ill, haven’t 
you? I didn’t know anything about it. I 
have been away so long, you know.” 

“ She has been perfectly well,” said Mar- 
garet, quickly, not wishing any one to usurp 
the sympathy she had always had, as the 
delicate one of the family. 

Carmen quietly confirmed the statement. 

44 Well, something has certainly changed you 


236 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


very much,” persisted Mabel. “ I haven’t seen 
you since the party, and you had such a bril- 
liant color that night. In fact, I have never 
seen you look just as you did then, before or 
since. I hardly knew you. You were like 
some magnificent young princess just walking 
out of a fairy-book.” 

Margaret gave a little, malicious smile, fading 
suddenly under Dick’s quick frown ; and if 
Mabel had been looking at Carmen still, she 
would have wondered how she could ever have 
thought her pale. 

“Here comes Vernon,” whispered Dick, as 
they passed through the gate. “ Of course 
you will stop and speak to him.” 

Carmen looked up to see him coming eagerly 
forward, his face full of pleasure. 

“It is such an age since I have seen you, 
Carmen ! ” 

She answered him very pleasantly, but she 
didn’t put out her hand. 

“ He might not like to take it,” she thought, 
with shrinking sensitiveness, — for they had 
not met since the night of the confession. 

Vernon, who had been watching the little 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING. 


237 


glove lying on Dick’s arm, looked very grave, 
and after a few more words, rather constrained, 
walked away with his sister. 

“ Why didn’t you shake hands with him?” 
said Dick. “ I am sure he expected it.” 

“ And I’m sure he didn’t — or, at least, he 
would have done it only from kindness, and I 
don’t want him to make an effort to be kind to 
me,” said Carmen, with a vehemence that made 
Dick stare. 

“What a queer girl you are! Frost, one 
minute, and fire the next. I’m half afraid of 
you. You’re just like a volcano covered over 
with snow ! ” 

“ What did you think of our new tenor 
voice?” asked Margaret. 

Carmen’s face glowed with sudden feeling. 

“ The angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are 
a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all 
God’s creatures,” quoted she. 

“ I suppose you think that will all be re- 
peated to him,” said Margaret, disagreeably. 

“ To him?” said Carmen, inquiringly. 

“ What an actress you would make ! ” cried 
Margaret. “ Of course you know well enough 
it was Vernon.” 


238 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Carmen looked incredulously at Dick. 

“ Yes, I thought we had told you, — he has 
sung quite often lately ; he is just beginning to 
find out what a voice he has. And the volun- 
tary too, wasn’t that beautiful? I never heard 
him do half so well before.” 

“ I suppose Innocence is going to ask who? 
again ; ” said Margaret. 

“ And truly I do not know,” replied Car- 
men,” it didn’t sound like the old organist.” 

“ And it wasn’t,” said Dick, walking a little 
faster to get out of hearing of Margaret. 
“ I’ll tell you all about it. Yernon stared at 
you ever so long, when you first came in ; his 
eyes looking as' big and sad as could be, — and 
then he just rose, pushed that wooden-head that 
usually grinds, to one side, and sat down, and 
played himself, — played just for you , Carmen, 
I am sure. And I do think you ought to 
be a little grateful.” 

“ I am,” said Carmen, faintly. “ No one 
else in the world could be so kind as he has 
been to me — and Joe Warner I ” 


CHAPTER Xn. 


THE EIGHT PATTERN. 

ROM that eventful day, no one in the 
house could fail to see that a change 
had come over Carmen ; the old sullen- 
ness and irritation were all gone, — she was 
almost cheerful again, though not with the old 
exuberance of spirits, and the little mother gave 
daily, tearful thanks that the unnatural, com- 
pressed lines were softening around her mouth, 
and in their place was a patience and restful- 
ness, giving her face a most touching and sin- 
gular charm. 

Neither could any one be unconscious that 
various little kind acts, showing constant 
thoughtfulness for the happiness and comfort 
of others, — though most quietly and secretly 
done, — had been again and again traced to the 
busy fingers of Carmen. But Aunt Ann, true 
( 239 ) 



240 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


to herself, viewed all these advances with sus" 
picion, and was by no means ready to give up 
her theory of the girl’s hopeless depravity. 

“ She has some plan ! ” Aunt Ann would 
murmur, steeling her heart when she found a 
pair of gloves neatly mended, or a torn dress 
repaired, with a skill her sharp eyes could not 
gainsay, even with the help of the best spec- 
tacles. “The good Book says, That which is 
crooked cannot be made straight, and that which 
is wanting cannot be numbered ! I wonder 
if Matthew Henry would think there was any 
changing that ? No, she has some plan. She 
is very deep, but she can’t cheat me! I’m on 
the watch ! ” 

And being on the watch, Aunt Ann was 
surprised and dissatisfied with herself, to find a 
faint admiration growing upon her. She 
struggled against it. 

“ There is something about the girl that 
bewitches everybody,” she said in perplexity. 
“We can’t see straight.” 

She never suspected that Carmen was begin- 
ning to weave with some new and beautiful 
threads, and the admiration she so fought 
against, was only what every one must feel 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


241 


who looks on a web woven after the pattern 
held down by the King’s son. 

Gradually again, Carmen also joined the 
group of young people in the evening, though 
never staying very long, and always clinging to 
Dick in a way that greatly flattered that young 
gentleman, and made him more her champion 
than ever. 

She often met Vernon now, with a nod and 
a pleasant word, but there was always some 
feeling of restraint ; he seemed easier talking 
to Margaret, and Carmen feared that it was the 
shadow of her one dishonorable act which must 
always fall between them. The consciousness 
of this was sometimes almost more than she 
could bear. These evenings, — which used to 
redeem with pleasure all the toil and discomfort 
of the day, — had very much changed for 
Carmen, and generally, after a half hour’s 
attempt at conversation and merriment, she 
would steal away to the toe of the old shoe, 
and busy herself with some of Miss Ravlin’s 
interminable work. 

She was getting somewhat discouraged about 
Aunt Rosina’s debt. She had hoped with the 

16 


242 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


great help of the fifty dollars, to pay it in the 
early summer. But Miss Ravlin had grown 
more grasping and extortionate of late, and 
paid such a mere nothing for hours of toil, that 
the sum rolled up very slowly. Still Carmen’s 
energy never flagged. With some of the first 
earnings she had bought candles, and now, 
night after night, when the rest of the house- 
hold were sleeping soundly, — a late passer 
might have seen on the white curtains of the 
little window, a slender shadow drawing a 
thread in and out with tireless, eager haste. 
No one suspected these vigils, and if she grew 
a little thin, the change was too gradual to 
attract any attention, especially as Carmen 
always insisted that she was strong and well. 
Perhaps the little mother might have seen it, 
if her eyesight, — always weak, — had not lately 
been failing her very fast. This was an 
especial affliction for her, as it prevented her 
from helping Carmen — she did not dare take 
one stitch upon the fine, particular work. 

Dick, however, often shook his wise head 
over Carmen’s pale cheeks, and only kept still 
because he had a plan which should soon put an 
end to them. 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


243 


“Hurrah! Carmen,” he cried, bursting in 
one day, with a joyful face, and snatching her 
work from her hand. “ Here’s enough to 
settle Aunt Rosina, I guess ; and Miss Ravi in 
may look out for another slave.” 

What is this? cried Carmen, taking up the 
roll of bills he had tossed in her lap. 

“ Why, you didn’t think I’d be so mean as 
to let you pay that all alone, did you? No,, 
indeed ! I’ve been earning something here and 
there, ever since — only I didn’t want to tell 
you till I had enough. Bernard, you see, 
wanted to give you money some time ago, but 
I wouldn’t let him. I told him he ought to be 
ashamed of himself, trying to tamper with our 
noble feelings ; we had done wrong, and we 
must make it all square our own selves, or we 
should never feel satisfied.” 

“ You were just right, Dick,” said Carmen, 
putting her hands on his shoulders, and looking 
in the honest, red face — never so embarrassed 
as when he was doing a favor. “ I see you 
understand how any honorable person ought to 
feel, and so, of course, you will not think it 
strange — will not be angry — if I say I cannot 


244 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


take that money, Dick. You know how I 
thank you.” 

“ Now, Carmen, that is too bad I You must 
take it — you shall! Why, it is my debt just 
as much as yours.” 

“ You know it isn’t, Dicky,” said Carmen, 
affectionately. “ How often must I remind 
you it was my plan. I carried it all out my- 
self. You only consented because you loved 
me, and thought it was making me so happy.” 

“ And now won’t you take this to make me 
happy?” asked Dick, reproachfully. 

“You know I would do almost anything for 
that reason, but not this — not this! O, Dick, 
if you ever want to see me any happier, — if this 
weight is ever lifted — you must let me do it 
alone ! ” 

And Dick, grievously disappointed, knew 
that from this gentle but firm decision there 
could be no appeal. 

So day after day the ceaseless toil went on, 
— no matter how oppressive and exhausting 
the weather — no matter what attractive books, 
furnished by Vernon, Dick cunningly laid in 
the way. “ What the mind wills, the body 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


245 


must,” Carmen would say to herself, again and 
again ; but flesh and blood could not long bear 
the strain she was relentlessly putting upon 
herself. There was a dull ache in her shoulder, 

— a sharper pain in her side, and sometimes she 
had even fallen asleep over her task, and lost a 
whole hour of precious time. The time for 
paying Aunt Rosina was put off from week to 
week — the summer was rapidly passing, and 
often, as Carmen rowed herself home from an 
interview with Miss Ravlin — who fretted at 
her delay, and hinted that she must employ a 
swifter hand — she cried nearly all the way, 
fearing that, in spite of all her efforts, she 
might fail just in sight of the goal. 

A hundred and twenty dollars she had 
thought would cover everything — would pay 
for the dress, and supply the missing ear-ring, 

— at least, so Dick, with whom she took fre- 
quent counsel, had decided. At the end of 
July, with the help of her fifty dollars, she had 
already laid by ninety-five. At the end of 
August, to her great disappointment, she had 
only increased it by ten. 

“ But I shall have it in September,” she said 


246 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


to Dick, who had met her at the boat, in one 
summer twilight. “ At the end of September, 
O Dick — I shall write the letter to Aunt 
Eosina ! And then don’t you think — don't you 
think they will respect me a little then ? ” her 
whole soul was in her eyes. 

“ Yes, I’m sure they will, — you dear, tired, 
proud little Carmen ! ” said Dick, catching her 
up, in spite of resistance, and running with her 
to the gate, “ that is, if there’s anything left to 
respect. You don’t weigh more than a spring 
chicken now ! It’s positively shameful. I don’t 
think I ought to encourage such wickedness. I 
believe I’ll go and tell your mother this minute 
that you’re trying to kill yourself ! ” 

“Don’t, don't , Dick!” implored Carmen, 
as he sprang towards the house. “It cer- 
tainly ivill kill me if you do anything to stop 
me. O, Dick if you only knew how I felt ! I 
can hardly sleep nights for fear something may 
happen to prevent it, and surely you couldn’t 
have the heart to do it. Only one month more 
— think of it — and then what a happiness ! 
They all thought I couldn’t do it, you know.” 

“ Well, Carmen,” said Dick, “ I’m a great 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


247 


strong fellow, but you can always wind me 
around your little finger. I suppose you must 
do as you please.” 

But September brought another disappoint- 
ment. Miss Ravlin had lost one or two lanre 
bills, — she was unusually cross and impatient, 
and Carmen did not dare reveal how little she 
got for her work. It was the first of October, 
and there were still six dollars to be made up. 

44 One more month, Dick,” she said, apol- 
ogetically — carefully hiding her own weariness 
and discouragement. 44 1 must have been a 
little lazy, but now I shall soon finish it up.” 

4 4 We must wait then,” sighed Dick, 44 but I 
believe I am getting most as much excited as you 
are — it seems as if the time never would come ! 
I’m glad of one thing, though, Carmen, — 
you’re looking ever so mucli better than you 
did. Your old red cheeks are coming back 
again, brighter than ever, I think.” 

“Yes,” said Carmen eagerly, 44 I’m sure I 
am the picture of health.” 

She didn’t think it necessary to tell him, that, 
while, all day, it almost seemed as if she were 
on fire — at night, she was very white and cold, 


248 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


— so cold sometimes, it seemed as if her very 
bones were turning to ice. 

“It is this terrible excitement,” she said. 
“ When once the letter is written I shall take 
such a delicious rest ! ” 

And now came the loveliest of October 
days. There were pleasant walks and expedi- 
tions planned by the young people, and Yernon 
often came early from the city to join them. 
But Carmen steadily refused every invitation. 

“ You know Dick,” said she, tearfully, as he 
grew almost angry, “ I could not enjoy any- 
thing if I went. I cannot have a minute’s 
comfort till this is finished.” 

Neither could she now find time to leave her 
room even for an hour, and Dick gradually 
contracted a habit of bringing up his books, 
and, between problems and translations — 
laboriously threading her needles, and winding 
her silks. 

“Carmen,” said he, one night, “do you 
know Yernon comes here almost every evening 
now ? ” 

Carmen nodded. 

“ I used to think he was a very good friend 
of yours, once.” 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


249 


“ Yes, once” repeated she, sewing away 
faster then ever. 

“And now, Aunt Ann says he’s always 
bringing flowers and fruit to Margaret, — 
though I should think he gave them about 
as often to Helen and Jack. Still, Aunt Ann 
says — pshaw, I wont tell you what she says, 
— it’s too ridiculous! Vernon has a good, 
clear head, and if he can’t, see that Mag — 
well, never mind, — she’s my sister, after all. 
I’m sure I shant find any fault if he is satisfied,” 
said Dick, finishing his somewhat incoherent 
speech. 

Carmen understood him very well. Why 
had she not thought of it before ; it was cer- 
tainly the most natural thing in the world ! 
Margaret was exceedingly pretty, her life had 
been remarkably quiet and even, — she must 
seem very sweet and womanly to him. It was 
certainly a most happy arrangement, and would 
be entirely satisfactory to everybody. It was 
all right. 

But Carmen’s eyesight troubled her wonder- 
fully that night, and all the sewing done by 
the light of the candle, had to be patiently 
picked out, and done over, the next morning. 


250 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


It was towards the last of October when 
Carmen finished a much longer job than usual. 
The garment was quite a work of art, but, to 
her, the yards of trimming, put on in graceful 
patterns, only meant backache, and headache, 
and heartache. She was folding it up in 
intense excitement. She had only three dollars 
more to earn. Miss Ravlin must at least give 
her four for this, and Aunt Rosina’s letter was 
to be written that very night ! 

She tied on her bonnet, and went lightly 
down the stairs, pausing for a moment at the 
door, to drink in all the glory of that lovely 
October afternoon. The fine weather was 
unusually late — the day was almost warm — 
the trees upon the hills stretching away to the 
east, were so gorgeous and glorious, that Car- 
men thought reverently of the bush burning 
with the presence of God — the banks still 
green, sloped away to the sweet, peaceful river, 
and over everything brooded the softest and 
tenderest mist. 

“ Carmen,” cried Aunt Ann, coming sud- 
denly upon the girl standing absorbed and 
almost happy, — “so you are off with another 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


251 


bundle. I’ve had it on my mind that that 
Miss Ravlin is a kind of a cheat, and imposes 
on you. Now if you’re in want of any more 
work, I think we can find it for you nearer 
home. If I’m not mistaken, somebody will 
be wanting a few extra clothes before long.’ 
She nodded significantly at Margaret, who was 
sitting dreamily at a window — a bouquet of 
brilliant flowers standing in a vase at her side. 
“ You’ve grown very skilful and handy, lately,’ 
continued Aunt Ann, not unkindly, “and, 
if the sewing is needed, — I know your Uncle 
Whitmore would pay you as soon as any- 
body.” 

If the good lady expected any emotion or 
surprise, she was very much disappointed. 

“ Thank you, Aunt Ann,” said Carmen, 
very clearly and quietly, as she walked away. 

Uncle Whitmore was just coming in the 
garden gate. 

“ I hope the work is almost done. You 
look tired and worried, child,” he said, kindly 
taking her hand. “I suppose you think you 
have had great troubles, and the way Jias 
seemed very dark, but your Father has known 


252 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


what was best for you. The guiding pillar 
which is only cloud by day, becomes fire in the 
night, and easier to follow — isn’t it, Carmen? 
I think you are going right now, my dear.’ 
And he stooped and kissed her forehead. 

Carmen’s eyes filled with grateful tears. 
She did not know, till then, how much she had 
stood in need of such love and encouragement. 

Miss Ravlin, as usual, treated Carmen with 
small ceremony, A rich customer was being 
fitted, and it was nothing to keep a sewing-girl 
waiting a couple of hours. When, at last, 
she did see her, it was only to find fault with 
the work — some of the trimming was wrong, 
and must be taken out, — perhaps one of her 
own girls could do it, but it would take time, 
and, under the circumstances, she could only 
give Carmen two dollars, which was more than 
the work was worth to her. 

The discouraged girl did not attempt to dis- 
pute her, and with still another bundle, which 
seemed to weigh her down as if it had been 
lead, — she again started for home. 

^he was more utterly disheartened than 
words could express. The writing to Aunt 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


253 


Rosina was again postponed, and the earning 
of that last dollar seemed like the adding of 
the last hair, which breaks the camel’s back. 

“ I don’t believe I can ever do it,” she 
said, desperately. “ Something will surely 
happen. I don’t believe the time can ever 
come ! ” 

It was growing very late, and lamps were 
already lighted in many of the stores. Carmen 
hurried to the river. 

“You be’nt goin’ across now, miss?” cried 
the ferry-boy. “ Don’t you see the fog? And 
it’s thickenin’ every minute ! ” 

“ But what can I do?” cried Carmen, with 
a little thrill of dismay. “ I must get home 
some way. Give me the boat, quick ! I’m 
sure I can row straight across. I’ve been so 
many times.” 

The boy shook his head. “ Better not 
chance it, miss. I come over half an hour 
ago, and got clean puzzled, I can tell you. 
You see, you think you’re steerin’ straight for a 
point, and just as like as not you’re turned clear 
’round, and rowin’ quite contrairy. Besides, 
there’s the steam-tugs that’ll run into you may- 


254 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


be ! or another boat may come on you all of a 
sudden, — a great deal closer than is anyways 
agreeable.” 

But determined Carmen had got out the 
oars, and was throwing her bundle in the 
boat. 

“ You hadn’t oughter,” said the boy, anx- 
iously. 

“But I can’t stay here, you know,” said 
Carmen, looking back nervously at the blinking 
lights of the strange city, — and she jumped in 
the boat. 

“ Well, I’ve warned you,” said the boy, 
“its dretful risky, but maybe you wont do 
nothing worse than stay out all night.” 

“Nonsense!” cried Carmen, pulling off 
with a vigorous oar. “ I have only to row 
directly away from the city lights — a little to 
the north, and I shall be all right.” 

She went on bravely enough till she was 
sure she must be, at least, half way over. But, 
as the boy had warned her, the fog was thicken- 
ing with every moment — the guiding lights 
from the city grew dimmer — faded into the 
faintest aurora, and, at last, suddenly seemed to 
go out entirely. 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


255 


“ But I must be almost home,” she thought, 
still pulling on with a good heart. “I’m 
sure I’m going in the right direction.” 

On and on she went, and still no signs of the 
shore. “ How strange it is ! ” said she, paus- 
ing, at last, in utter fatigue. “ I ought to have 
been there long before this* Can it be possible 
hat I have been turning around as the ferry- 
boy said ? ” 

Her anxious eye swept the horizon in every 
direction — not a trace of light ! She doubted 
if she could see farther than the boat’s length. 
Indeed, she could not even distinguish the line 
of water, so closely did the grey, impenetrable 
mist shut her in on every side ; it seemed as if 
she were floating in the clouds, and she quite 
enjoyed the novel sensation, till, with *a sudden 
shiver, she remembered the danger. “ What 
was it the boy had said about the steam-tugs ? ” 
she thought. Wasn’t that a whistle she heard? 
How dreadful if she should be swept suddenly 
down under the smooth black water, into which 
she had often looked with such fascination 
and terror? If she could only get back to 
the city again — what happiness just to lie 


256 


ONE DAY'S WEAVING. 


all night in the sweet security of the boat- 
house ! 

Carmen sprang to her oars again, but, which 
way, should she go? She could not tell up 
from down — right from left, — and a keen sense 
of the hopelessness of all effort paralyzed her. 
She might wear herself out with struggling, 
and perhaps, after all, only hasten her destruc- 
tion, — only succeed in placing herself in the 
path of one of those dreadful steamers ! Still 
inaction was one of the greatest of griefs to ener- 
getic Carmen. Would not somebody hear her 
if she could call very loud? They would miss 
her at home — ah, how she loved them all, — 
how glad she would be to see even Aunt Ann 
and Margaret ! — and wouldn't Dick, dear, 
affectionate Dick come after her — wouldn't he, 
at least, be on the shore waiting and watch- 
ing? 

With all her strength she called his name, 
but the sound was hoarse and muffled, and 
Carmen felt despairingly that it pierced such a 
little ways through the cruel, stifling mist. 
She sat very still a long time with her arms 
folded, while it grew darker, and the cold wet 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


257 


fingers of the fog seemed to be creeping to the 
very marrow of her bones.” 

“ I don’t know what the end will be,” said 
poor tired Carmen, yielding to a terrible 
depression, “ but if anything should happen, 
Oh, how hard it would be — just as I got ready 
to pay Aunt Rosina — just as I was going to 
ask Vernon ! — Oh, I knew it was too much ! 
I didn’t deserve such happiness ! Maybe Dick 
will tell him, — but if I should never hear him 
say it — ! ” Carmen dropped her face into her 
hands, and sobbed aloud. 

In the meantime, Bernard and Dick had been 
enjoying themselves greatly, looking over a box 
of foreign photographs at Vernon Hammond’s, 
and it was only after tea that they started for 
home, Vernon joining them in a quiet stroll. 

,“Is that you, Master Whitmore?” cried 
old Jimmy, accosting them about midway. “ I 
was jest goin’ up to the house to tell yeT about 
Miss Carmen. My Bill has jest come over, 
and the boy on t’other side told him that she 
started more’n an hour ago, and the boat ha’n’t 
come in yit ! It was a risky thing for a young 
gal like her to come out in sech a fog, but she 
17 


258 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


alius had grit. I’m a little afeard, though, the 
poor young creetur may have got frightened, 
and will drift down among them bi^ craft and 

O O 

steamers ” — 

Dick and Vernon uttered an exclamation. 
“ O, she wouldn’t be so crazy as to come over 
in this fog all alone,” cried Vernon. “ Are 
you perfectly sure ? ” 

“ She certainly did,” said the old man. 
“I’d go after her myself, if it wasn’t for this 
rheumatiz. I wish I’d ever told her what / often 
do in a fog — put your hand in the river and 
see which way it runs, and it helps consid- 
able.” 

But Vernon, with long strides, was already 
out of hearing. 

“ What shall we do?” asked Dick, as he 
and Bernard followed breathlessly after. 

“We must do what we can, though I’m 
afraid it will be in vain,” said Vernon, clearing 
his throat. “ We will each take a boat, going 
in a little different direction, and calling her all 
the time. Bernard must stay behind and 
build the largest possible fire on the shore ! ” 

All this was quickly carried into execution. 


THE EIGHT PATTERN. 


259 


“ Try your best, Dick,” cried Vernon, as 
they took up the oars. 44 There is the merest 
chance ! ” 

Dick did not trust his voice to answer. It 
was so dreadful to his affectionate heart to think 
of poor, frightened Carmen out all alone in 
this blackness of darkness. And the steamers ! 
O, how desperately lie sent his ringing shouts 
across the shrouded water ! 

But all this time Carmen was very near 
them. In her first energy she had rowed a 
long distance up the stream, and had since been 
drifting, but slowly, down the sluggish current. 
She was recovering too from her spasm of de- 
spair — her strong young will rebelled against 
death — she was struggling once more for life, 
- sweet life ! 

4 4 Dick ! Dick ! ” she cried with all her 
strength. 44 O, 1 am sure I should hear him 
anywhere if he called me like that ! ” and 
again she passionately called — 44 Dick ! ” 

Was it her imagination? or did she hear an 
answering shout, and a cry of 44 Call again.” 

44 Dick, O, Dick, do you hear me!” * 

There could be no mistake this time, — the 


260 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


answering voice came nearer — there was 
a dip of oars, and a dusky object grew out 
of the blackness just at her side. 

“Is it you , Carmen?” cried a delighted 
voice. “Is it possible that I have found 
you — there wasn’t one chance in a hun- 
dred ! ” 

“Dick?” said Carmen, faintly. 

“ No, it is not Dick, it is only I,” said 
Vernon, with a quick restraint. “But it is 
great happiness to have found you ! ” he took 
her hand. 

Carmen could not control its trembling. “ I 
am very cold,” said she, apologetically. 

“ To be sure you are ! ” he jumped into her 
boat, fastening his own in the rear, — and then 
off came his heavy, warm overcoat, to be 
wrapped, despite all opposition, around the 
shivering girl. 

“ He could not be so kind unless he liked 
me a little again ! ” thought Carmen, a faint 
glow at her heart. “ But no, didn’t he risk 
his life for Joe Warner just as freely and un- 
hesitatingly? He came after me just as he 
went for Joe Warner!” Why try to hide it 
from herself? 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


261 


“ You ought to be happy, Vernon,” she said 
quietly, in a minute, “ now you have saved two 
of us, — Joe Warner and me.” 

“Two of us!” cried Vernon, who had 
taken up the oars she had dropped so hope- 
lessly. “ How strangely you put it. There 
is such a great difference between you and Joe 
Warner, I don’t like your being associated in 
anything. I don’t want to speak too harshly 
of him though. Sometimes I think I shall 
hear good of him yet. I can’t quite give him 
up. Do you see a light anywhere, Carmen? 

— this fog is very bewildering. Ah ! there it 
is, — he must have got on a tar barrel!” he 
said, as a strong blaze shot upward, and the 
dismal fog, as by magic, turned scarlet and 
cheerful. 

“Here we come, all right — pilots of the 
rosy twilight ! ” cried Vernon, encouragingly. 

But Carmen was getting ready to say some- 
thing, which she felt must be said then or 
never. 

“ You know there was not such a great dif- 
ference between Joe Warner and me, Vernon 

— ’’she faltered, “only perhaps I was more 


262 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


sorry, oh, so very sorry ! ” her voice trembled 
and broke. 

“Don’t! don’t, Carmen!” cried Yernon, 
greatly distressed, pausing a minute to take the 
little cold hand. “ That is all past now, and 
every one knows that — the old web has been 
dipped in the fountain.” 

“ I hope so,” said Carmen, just above a 
whisper. “I went in on my knees!” She 
could not have said it, if it had not been for 
the veil of mist hiding both their faces. “ And 
I want to tell you, Yernon,” she went on 
hastily, 4 ‘ I have earned all the money — but 
just one dollar — to pay Aunt Rosina, — earned 
it every bit myself! Do you think you can 
respect me again? Could you ever possibly 
have me for a friend ? ” 

“No, Carmen! because — ah, what have 
I been thinking about ! ” cried he, springing to 
his oars. 

A rushing and roaring burst upon them out 
of the fog — there was a shrill whistle and 
glancing lights ! Yernon bent all his strength 
and, in another moment, they were rocking and 
tos’sing in angry water, — the boat in the 


THE RIGHT PATTERN. 


263 


rear was shivered in pieces, and the steam 
tug, puffing and laboring, had shot swiftly 
by ! 

They were breathless a moment with the 
terror of their narrow escape. 

“We were very near the shore, Carmen,” 
said Yernon, in a voice deep with emotion, 
“ but for a moment, I thought eternity was 
nearer ! ” 

“ Ship ahoy ! ” cried a discontented voice, 
which seemed to be wandering through the fog, 
entirely independent of the clog of a body. 

“ O, are you there, Dick?” cried Yernon, 
cheerfully. 

“ Yes, and you’ve found her ! just like your 
luck,” growled Dick, as the two boats shot into 
the full blaze of the fire. “Where is she?” 
continued he, leaping into the boat, hardly 
drawn to the shore. “ Why doesn’t she speak? 
Ah, is she so cold and frightened? Come here, 
my baby ! ” 

“Don’t be a calf, Dick,” said Bernard, 
though the tears were in his own eyes. 

“ I shall carry her homo,” said Dick. “ It 
is a very little way.” 


264 


ONE DAYS WEAVING. 


“ Let me help you," said Vernon. 

“We don’t want any help, Dick,” she 
whispered hastily. “ Put me down ; I can 
walk alone.” 

Dick only held her tighter. “ Go away,” he 
cried, as Vernon came nearer. “You’ve had 
enough for one night.” 

“ And you’re perfectly green with jealousy, 
my dear Dick!” laughed Vernon. “Won’t 
you just let me speak one word to her ? ” 

“ Not to-night,” said Carmen, quickly. 
“ To-morrow. I must thank you to-morrow. 
Don’t talk to me now.” 

Vernon, instantly sobered, drew back, declin- 
ing all repentant Dick’s invitations that he 
should come up to the Shoe and have a cup of 
hot coffee, and thaw himself out by the sitting- 
room fire. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 

HE next morning after Carmen’s adven- 
ture, she rose and dressed, but was 
ordered back to bed by good Aunt 
Whitmore. Dick was a little uneasy to 
see her yield so willingly. 

“ I was so cold and frightened, yesterday,” 
she explained, it will seem quite pleasant to lie 
in the soft warm bed all day, and think how 
happy I am.” 

You’ve got the queerest look for a happy 
person, though,” said Dick. “ I don’t like 
the way you smile, sometimes, — it doesn’t go 
behind your lips. But you must have been 
terribly frightened, poor little thing ! ” 

“There, that will do, dear grandpapa!’’ 
cried Carmen, with something of her old man- 
ner. “ I never was over grateful for patron- 
( 265 ) 




266 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


age, you know. Now if you are really sorry 
for me, and want to help me, — just thread me 
some needles, — if I get very tired lying here 
idle, I’ll sew a little, just to amuse me.” 

“Will it really amuse you?” said Dick, 
suspiciously . 

44 Of course. I should be ever so much 
happier.” 

44 Well, that settles the question ; ” and Dick 
industriously threaded every one on the needle- 
book. 

He was hardly out of sight, before Carmen 
began to 4 4 amuse ” herself. Brightly flashed 
the little needle in and out, as she sewed, never 
so swiftly, to a sorrowful refrain, continually 
running in her head. Again and again, with 
burning cheeks, she heard herself asking the ques-' 
tion — 44 Could you be my friend? 44 No, Car- 
men ! No, Carmen ! ” — the words throbbed and 
beat in her brain. She drew her thread in and out 
to the unhappy rhythm. Sometimes she felt that 
it was a little hard that he had said it. To be 
sure he was very high-spirited and honorable, 
but he ought not to have repulsed her — the 
holy heart of the King’s Son had not disdained 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


267 


to be touched with compassion. Then she 
called herself unjust — for had not Yernon 
pitied her? She recalled now, that his voice 
had trembled when he had said those words 
which his truth would not let him withhold. 
“No, Carmen! because — ” The little 
steam-tug had saved them both a great deal 
of pain in cutting short that because . Well, 
if suffering could atone for wrong-doing, she 
had surely made some reparation for her fault. 
How many tears she had shed over that dread- 
ful thread, which she feared had marred her web 
for life! And now she was tired— tired of 
everything — even the thought of paying Aunt 
Rosina failed to give her the pleasant thrill it 
used. She didn’t know how she was ever to 
get courage to go on with life. The poor 
overworked loom creaked and jarred painfully. 
She almost felt that it would be sweet to go 
upon her knees to the great King, laying down 
her imperfect web at his feet, and asking him to 
let her rest — rest forever ! But Carmen was 
mistaken. She did not want to die — she had 
only had a cruel disappointment, — she had not 
suspected how much of her happiness she had 


268 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


been hanging upon the answer to that little 
question. 

44 Carmen,” said Jack, looking in, 4 4 Yernon 
is here, and says could you see him a minute?” 

Carmen shrank a little — he might want to 
finish that 44 because.” 44 Not to-day, Jacky — 
to-morrow — be sure and say it pleasantly — 
to-morrow, or perhaps the next day. And 
thank him, Jacky.” But Jack was gone. 

Margaret came up a few minutes afterwards. 

44 Seems to me you are putting on great 
airs, Carmen. I’m sure you are able enough 
to get up if you pleased. Yernon has gone 
away very deeply hurt, although I tried to show 
him that some members of the family were not 
ignorant of the commonest decencies of life, 
and could express a little gratitude for his 
bravery.” 

44 And, of course, your thanks far more than 
balanced his disappointment in not receiving 
mine,” said Carmen, trying to appease Mar- 
garet’s evident ill-humor. 44 And what beauti- 
ful grapes you have in your hand ! he brings 
them to you almost every day, doesn’t he? ” 

4 4 He didn’t bring them to me,” said Mar- 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


269 


garet, sharply. “ They are for you, and he 
told me to tell you that he knew who he was 
bringing them to now.” 

“ It was very bitterly, and pointedly said, 
and Margaret had the satisfaction of seeing 
Carmen flush deeply. 

“You do not grudge me his pity, do you, 
Margaret? You can have something better.” 

Margaret stared a moment. She had never 
heard anything so humble from Carmen 
before. But she was pleased with the idea 
suggested, — it was a most welcome expla- 
nation of the attention. Of course he must 
treat Carmen with kindness or he would not 
be himself. And she went away, leaving the 
grapes. 

But Carmen, after one glance at the rich 
purple and golden-green clusters, did not look 
at them again. 

“ She gave . all your pretty grapes to me,” 
said little Jack to Vernon, who came the next 
day. He did not ask again for Carmen. 

Two or three days passed, and, though still 
in bed, Carmen had finished another piece of 
work. 


270 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“You must take it home for me, Dicky,” 
said she, looking so pretty with her scarlet 
cheeks propped against the white pillows, “ and 
ask her for some more.” 

“Not more!” cried Dick, “surely this is 
enough to pay Aunt Rosina.” 

“ Yes, but now I’ve something else in my 
head. I must earn a little more.” 

“And then lie down and die!” frowned 
Dick. 

“No, indeed! if you only knew how it 
amused me, Dick ! You can’t think.” 

“No, I can’t,” said he, doubtingly. “ But 
if Carmen will — she will, and there’s an end 
on it. “ It’s of no use for me to oppose. ’> 
And he thought to himself — “she wants to 
buy back that chain. If I only dare tell 
her! — ” 

Little Miss Ravlin was favored that day with 
a piece of Dick’s mind, done up in the plainest, 
most forcible English, and was so surprised 
that she committed the indiscretion of paying 
twice what Carmen expected, and very nearly 
what the work was worth. He also drove a 
very sharp bargain with her, in respect to the 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


271 


bundle he was carrying away, and had very 
good reason to chuckle over his skill, as he did, 
all the way home. 

He found Carmen half laughing, half crying 
ofer a letter from Aunt Rosina to the little 
mother. She pointed about half way down the 
fretful sheet, and Dick read — 

“ I do not expect to go much into society 
this winter, on account of some deficiencies in 
my wardrobe, which brother Herbert has not ' 
been able to supply — By the way, I suppose 
Carmen was quite worn out, earning that dollar 
and a half, as I have heard nothing farther 
from her.” 

‘ ‘ Isn’t she perfectly insulting ! ” cried indig- 
nant Dick. “ I declare I grudge her the 
money.” 

“Well, I don’t,” said Carmen, eagerly. 
“Bring me the pen and paper. O, what a 
happy, happy moment — to think that God has 
let me write it at last ! Will it go to-night ? ” 

“ It shall,” said Dick, wiping his eyes, as 
he watched her trembling fingers. * “ If the 
mail is gone — I’ll go on with it myself, on 
foot ! ” 


272 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


The letter was sent, but Carmen seemed to 
droop after it. The only thing that interested 
her in the least, was the completion of the little 
bundles of work, and the eager counting up of 
the munificent returns — for Dick had insisted 
on making all the bargains lately. Indeed, 
Carmen, herself, had not been out once since 
the night on the river. Every morning she 
rose and dressed herself, but soon was tired, and 
made some excuse for half reclining upon the 
bed. 

“And how do you feel to-day?” Dick 
would say, looking in every morning to find her 
still in her wrapper. “Will you be down 
stairs to-night when I come home ? ” 

“Perhaps not to-night, Dick,” Carmen 
would say, deprecatingly, “ but I am a great 
deal better.” 

“ O, yes, better, — getting better so fast 
that you will be in your grave by spring ! ” 
growled the disappointed Dick. 

“ What a goose you make of yourself over 
Carmen,” *fcried Margaret, one day. “ She 
isn’t half so delicate as I am. This is all pre- 
tence — her being ill, — she just keeps it up 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 273 

from selfishness, and a love of being waited on, 
and making trouble.” 

“You ought to be ashamed to talk of her so, 
behind her back,” cried Dick. 

“ Would you have me say it to her face? ” 

“Yes, certainly, if it is right to say it at 
all ! One ought to scorn to attack an enemy 
anywhere but in frmt 1 ” 

6 4 I wish you had half as much patience with 
your sister as you have with your cousin,” — 
began Margaret, tearfully. But Dick had 
made his escape. 

‘ ‘ And what are you working for now ? ” 
said Aunt Ann, looking in one day. 

Carmen shook her head, silently. 

“ O I know very well. Life isn’t too much 
of an offering for Mammon ! Body and soul 
must be sacrificed now, if you can only get 
back that chain ! Don’t you suppose I know 
what you are up to ? ” 

4 • Who can hide anything from Aunt Ann ? ” 
murmured Carmen. 

An involuntary smile at this deserved tribute 
to her keenness, was severely strangled in its 
birth. 


18 


274 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ O, this love of gold!” cried Aunt Ann, 
compressing her mouth, “ this love of gold in 
any shape or form ! It is frightful ! I was 
reading yesterday, in the book of a man of 
science,” — Aunt Ann had such a weakness for 
men of science ! — “I was reading that there 
was iron in the blood, and I paused to think, — 

‘ 4 Suppose it was gold instead of iron , and sup- 
pose Carmen knew it ! — Why I trembled from 
head to foot. I shouldn’t have dared to close 
my eyes that night. I should have feared that 
before morning, there wouldn’t be a drop of 
blood left in my veins ! ” 

“Oh, Aunt Ann! Aunt Ann!” cried 
Carmen, with a little laugh, and then burst 
into tears. 

“ Those were just my feelings ! ” said Aunt 
Ann, clattering away, and congratulating her- 
self upon another word fitly spoken. 

“ Carmen,” said Dick, that same night, as 
she counted over the money, as caressingly as 
if she fairly loved every ragged little scrap, — 
“ I’m afraid you are getting to be a miser ! ” 
Carmen laughed. “ Perhaps there was 
danger, but now I think I have got enough. 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


275 


Now Dick, I am going to tell you what I want 
to do. I want to buy — Matthew Henry’s Com- 
mentaries for Aunt Ann ! ” 

Dick’s eyes fairly stood out of his head, and 
he gave the longest possible whistle. 

“ Now I do believe you are going crazy, 
Carmen ! ” 

“ I have always given her a great deal of 
trouble. I think there are, at least, a couple of 
wrinkles in her poor old forehead, that I have 
carved myself. I should like very much to 
give her a little pleasure.” 

“She always was ambitious!” frowned 
Dick, “ and nothing will content her now but 
to lift that very heaviest shuttle ! the bad, queer 
Carmen ! ” and catching - her in his arms he 
sealed his disapproval with a sounding kiss. 
“ But I thought you were working for the 
chain,” he added, involuntarily. 

“ And so I do want the chain,” she said, a 
shade coming over her face. “ I never like to 
think how my grandmother would have felt if 
she had known it was going out of the family 
for such a reason!” her voice trembled. “I 
must work for that next. You don’t think it 


276 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


could be melted, Dicky. I never thought of 
that till last night. And I hope nobody has 
bought it. Will you find out all about it for 
me, Dick?” 

Dick cleared his throat in some embarrass- 
ment. “ Yes, I’ll see what can be done.” 

“ And will you get the books to-morrow? — 
because the next day is my birthday, and I 
should like to have something pleasant to think 
about.” 

Dick promised. The precious Commentaries, 
in handsome binding, and clear type, were 
duly purchased. It was an expensive gift, but 
Dick made up some small deficiency in the pay- 
ment, — from his own purse, and came capering 
home, with a series of antics which the heavy 
books modified, but could not entirely control. 
With his usual impetuosity he burst into Car- 
men’s room, awaking her out of troubled 
sleep. 

“Here, dear!” he cried, triumphantly. 
But Carmen, with a few, incoherent words, 
looked over him, and through him, and beyond 
him, but took no more notice of his treasures 
than if he had held his arms full of paving 
stones. 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


277 


Poor Dick was quite broken-hearted, although 
the family physician, who was hastily sum- 
moned, assured them there was no cause for 
alarm. She had a low, nervous fever, he said 
— it must have been hanging about her for 
some time. All she needed was perfect quiet 
and rest. And this Aunt Whitmore secured to 
her, with her unceasing watchfulness and good 
nursing. The little mother was feeble, but 
Carmen lacked for nothing under the tender 
ministrations of Aunt Whitmore’s large, moth- 
erly hands. How she grew to love her, — how 
she watched for her, — how she wondered that 
she had ever dared to despise her ! She learned 
another lesson during that sickness, learned 
that there was a language of the heart, whose 
purity and eloquence did not depend upon any 
rules of Lindley Murray. Carmen always 
looked beneath Aunt Whitmore’s words, and 
listened to her heart, after that. 

At the end of a week, impatient Dick, with 
Bernard and Margaret, was allowed to make 
her a visit. He had been in lamentable spirits, 
and had carried the gloomiest reports to Vernon, 
who had come to the house very seldom, of 


278 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


late, but was always waiting for him, every 
morning, at the ferry. 

‘ f Are you really better ? ” cried outspoken 
Dick, as he caught sight of the face so much 
whiter sin~c the fever had left it. “ Why, you 
look a great deal worse ! ” 

“ Is that the best you can say, foolish boy ! ” 
cried Aunt Ann, who, since she had fully 
assured herself that Carmen was not feigning 

o o 

illness, had felt it her duty to be helpful, and 
had now sent away Aunt Whitmore and the 
little mother to take some needed rest. ‘ 4 If you 
haven’t anything pleasanter to tell her, you had 
better go away.” 

“Well, I have a little piece of good news, 
if she’d like to hear it?” said Dick, quite tim- 
idly. 

Carmen nodded and tried to look interested. 

“Vernon has heard from Joe Warner, and 
he’s doing splendidly out in California ! making 
lots of money, and honestly, too, he writes. 
And O, if you could only hear how he thanks 
Vernon ! he says — ‘You looked at me once 
as if you really cared for me, as if you thought 
there might be some good left in me yet. God 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


279 


bless you, Vernon ! I think that look saved me, 
— I shall try all my life to prove you were not 
mistaken.’ Wasn’t that splendid, Carmen? 
And he sent him some beautiful presents too, 
but Vernon doesn’t seem to care for anything 
but the letter.” 

“ Good for the shuttle of love!” said Ber- 
nard. 

“ How happy he must be ! ” sighed Carmen. 

“Well he is — that is, most of the time. 
But sometimes he is very sad — acts as if he 
had something on his mind.” 

“ No one can be perfectly happy in this 
world,” sighed Margaret, who had lately been 
deeper than ever in the slough of despond. 
“ Our hopes are always dropping off. ‘ Day 
after day — hour after hour, some gentle flower 
or leaf gives way ! — ’” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! ” cried practical Dick, 
“ won’t they be putting out again in the. 
spring ? ” 

“There is but one spring for the heart!” 
sighed Margaret. And Carmen, foreseeing 
mischief in the twinkle of Dick’s eye, hastily 
interposed. 


280 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ How long it is since I have heard any 
music ! I wish some one would sing.” 

Dick jumped at the proposal, eagerly. 
“ What shall it be, Carmen?” 

“ Anything low and sweet.” 

Aunt Ann came over from the window where 
she had been picking up a stitch in her knit- 
ting. “ Sing,” said she — 

“ ‘ The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day ; 

And there may /though vile as he, 

Wash all my sins away.* ” 

“ O, Aunt Ann, how could you!” cried 
Dick and Bernard in the same breath, as sensi- 
tive Carmen flushed a deep crimson. 

Aunt Ann looked quite injured. She truly 
had intended no harm, but had only meant to 
convey in her own pleasant way, that she 
began to think there might be hope even for 
Carmen. 

+ ** It is all right,” said Carmen, in a minute, 
“ I should like to have you sing it very much.” 
But no one seemed inclined to begin. 

“ Perhaps we had better go, Dick,” said 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


281 


Bernard, with an uneasy glance at Carmen, 
who had grown very white again. 

“ Repeat some little bit of poetry to me 
then, if you won’t sing. I want something 
pleasant to think about after you are gone.” 

“ ‘ A still small voice said unto me,”’ began 
Margaret, with cheerful promptness — 

“ ‘Thou art so full of misery, 

Were it not better not to be? ’ ” 

“Mag!” cried Dick. “I have twenty 
minds to choke you ! ” 

“ Whose minds ? ” laughed Bernard. “Your 
own intellect can’t back any such extrava- 
gance.” 

“If he only wouldn’t call me Mag ! ” sighed 
Margaret. “ Why wasn’t I named Inez, or 
Clarice, or something which couldn’t be 
twisted into that horrid Mag ! I think it is a 
great trial.” 

A great trial to be called Mag ! Carmen 
thought of it, as she lay with her eyes shut. 
How strange it seemed to her, who had known 
such unhappiness, whose nerves were still 
quivering from Aunt Ann’s last thrust. Her 


282 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


mistake would never be forgotten, she thought 
— there would always be some reminder spring- 
ing upon her ; and in her weak state, she 
thought wistfully of the Father, who had said, 
“I will call her beloved, which was not be- 
loved” and had also said of his children — 
“ Their sins and iniquities will I remember no 
more.” Why would it not be sweet to be rest- 
ing on this Heart, the only one in the universe 
great enough to forever forget such things? 
Besides hadn’t Vernon said he should not want 
to live if he had done anything dishonorable? 
Yes, it would be a great deal better for her to 
go. Carmen was quite sure that she wanted 
to die. 

There are times when imaginary feelings are 
real, — the Father must have looked with for- 
giving compassion upon the morbid soul, grown 
faint in the embrace of the distempered body. 

“Perhaps,” said Aunt Ann, “if somebody 
would read her a chapter out of the Bible it 
would do her as much good as anything. And 
then you’d better all go away.” 

Bernard took the little book she handed him, 
and happened upon the chapter ending with the 
sublime words : — 


THE SHUTTLE OF LOVE. 


283 


“For the Lord himself shall descend from 
Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the 
archangel, and with the trump of God ! ” 
Carmen could never hear these words.without 
a thrill, — without fairly holding her breath to 
the end, — “ and so shall we ever be with the 
Lord ! Wherefore comfort one another with 
these words.” 

“ Aunt Ann,” said Carmen, faintly, “ do you 
think it would be presumption if I should com- 
fort myself with these words ? ” 

“How queer you do talk, child!” cried 
Aunt Ann, uneasily. “People always have 
the strangest notions when they’re getting over 
fevers. Now, you need your chicken tea — 
that’s the matter with you . I ought to have 
thought of it before ; ” and she hurried off. 

“ Bernard,” said Carmen, “ I wish you 
would repeat those beautiful verses that begin 
— 4 Forever with the Lord.’ ” 

“ O, Carmen ! ” said Dick, the tears spring- 
ing to his eyes. — Didn’t people always talk 
so in memoirs, when they were going to die? 
“ I wish you didn’t want to hear that ! Let me 
tell you — ‘ There was a tall young oysterman 
lived by the river’s side.’ ” 


284 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


44 Afterwards,” said Carmen, looking expect- 
antly at Bernard. 

“Forever with the Lord,” he began — 
“ Amen., so let it be.” 

“Stop!” cried Dick, with a shocked face. 
“You’re telling the truth! Carmen! Car- 
men ! ” 

Carmen lay with closed eyes, white and 
unconscious. Margaret began to sob aloud. 

“ What’s this?” cried Aunt Ann, hurrying 
in with her bowl of broth, nearly run over by 
Bernard, going for his mother. 

Margaret pointed to Carmen. 

Dick stood like one stunned. “ Forever 
with the Lord,” he repeated mechanically. 

“ Oh, I hope not ! That is to say — ” stam- 
mered Aunt Ann, aghast at her own impiety. 

“ Ann ! ” cried Aunt Whitmore, with most 
unusual sharpness — 4 4 hain’t you no more 
sense than the children ? You’ve let ’em stay 
till she was clean beat out. She’s in a dead 
faint ! Bernard hand me the brandy, and them 
flannels, and then go away, all of you.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


GOLDEN THREADS. 

was Chrismas Eve. Pleasant, appe- 
zing odors had been in the air all day, 
ad the delightful bustle, pleasantly 
subdued, reached even up to the toe of the old 
shoe, where Carmen sat in the great easy- chair, 
still pale, but unmistakably better. 

The fire in the little stove crackled cheerily, 
the curtains were drawn, and the scarlet leaves 
in the half-worn carpet blazed out with all 
their pristine brilliancy, for the room was in a 
flood of light. Carmen was to come down 
stairs the next day, and be well , and Dick, in 
the exuberance of his spirits, had insisted on 
having an illumination ; and had purchased, 
himself, a half dozen candles — all of which 
were blazing at once from mantle-piece and 
bureau. 



( 285 ) 


286 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


It was very cheerful, and Carmen was trying 
to be cheerful too. She was quite willing to live 
now, and she hoped she was ready, very 
patiently, to do whatever was duty and right. 

A sudden impulse made her rise and go to 
the little dressing-glass. It was a very color- 
less, spiritless face that looked back at her. 
“My beauty is all gone,” she thought, “and 
perhaps my cleverness too.” For it did not 
seem to her, that night, that she should ever 
again say or do anything that was not utterly 
commonplace. She was not worthy of golden 
threads, she thought sadly, and God had taken 
them from her. Now her web would always 
be very quiet and grey, — none of the weavers 
would ever have reason to envy her again. 
But it was safer, — perhaps she should be 
surer of weaving the pattern which the King 
could commend. Sometimes a little vision dis- 
turbed her, of what life might be in the old 
farm-house, after Margaret was married and 
gone, and there would be so little to vary the 
monotony of the ordinary, homespun duties ; 
but she put the gloomy thoughts from her with 
what resolution she could. 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


287 


“I will cross that bridge when I come to 
it,” she said bravely. “ I have so very much to 
be thankful for ! ” And then, to her great 
surprise, she found a tear rolling down her 
cheek. 

“ What will you give for a letter from Aunt 
Eosina? cried Dick, coming in, waving it over 
his head. 

Carmen snatched it eagerly — the letter 
watched for, and expected so long. Dick 
looked over her shoulder, and they read to- 
gether : 


“My Dear Niece: — For I feel that I can again con- 
scientiously address you in terms of affection. I received a 
very strange reproachful letter from your mother, a few days 
ago, but she would not find fault with me for not writing, if 
she knew how much I have had to occupy me. Immedi- 
ately upon the receipt of your check, I went out and 
bought me a very handsome wine-colored silk, — I did not 
get another green, as, with the present style of fashion, I 
have been able to gore out the worst spots in my old one, 
and can wear it on a dark day, or in the evening. But 
such a time as I have had with the trimmings ! Day after 
day I have spent in the stores, and only succeeded in get- 
ting an exact match last week. My most intimate friend, 
Mrs. Foley, says it is a good plan to buy trimmings first, 
and get the dress to match, and I think it’s as good a piece 
of wisdom as you will find in the proverbs of Solomon. 


288 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


“ As brother Herbert had already supplied my missing 
ear-ring, you will be glad to know that I spent the re- 
mainder of the money for an elegant shawl-pin, which I 
had long been wanting. I felt that I could not better en- 
courage you in everything that was true and honorable 
than by taking the money, and using it all, as you desired. 
And now, in conclusion, let me say, that although you have 
done nothing but an act of common honesty, still, — justice 
is such a rare thing in this world, — I cannot withhold my 
commendation. Your conduct has pleased me exceeding- 
ly, and I think I can say, — in answer to your ques tion, — 
that I feel a returning respect for you. I think you will 
never forget this lesson ; and the consciousness that my 
visit to brother Whitmore has been productive of such a 
happy change in your character, — will always be a most 
gratifying thought to 

“ Your most affectionate, 

“Aunt Rosina.” 

“ Shall I tear it in a hundred pieces, and 
throw it in the fire?” cried vehement Dick. 

Carmen stretched out her hand in alarm. 

“ O, no ! I value it very much ! ” 

‘ ‘ It can’t be possible that you care a fig for 
the opinion of that selfish, old peacock ! O, 
how frightfully mean ! I couldn’t believe she 
would keep it all.” 

“I’m so glad she did,” cried Carmen, 
quickly. “ I wouldn’t have it any other way 
for the world ! ” 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


289 


“ I wish she could know that her dress was 
paid for in flesh and blood ! ” said Dick, patting 
Carmen’s thin cheek. 

“ It wasn’t too much,” said she, quietly. 

“ Well, let us think of something pleasanter,” 
said Dick. “ Have you decided how to give the 
Commentaries to Aunt Ann ? ” They had been 
lying in his room ever since Carmen’s illness. 

“ Yes, I want you to get them in her room, 
some way, after she is asleep. I don’t want her 
to know anything about it till she finds them on 
the table in the morning.” 

“ I’ll steal in like a thief in the night ! ” cried 
Dick. 

“ Well, bring them to me now, I must write 
her name.” 

“ Aunt Ann, with the love of Carmen,” 
read the curious Dick, a few minutes after, upon 
the fly-leaves. “Love?” repeated he, elevat- 
ing his eyebrows. 

“ I shouldn’t have written it unless I meant 
it. I feel very differently from what I did a 
year ago. I think I love everybody to-night.” 

‘ « And I’m sure everybody loves you ! ” cried 

Dick, enthusiastically. 

19 


290 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


Something clouded the peace of Carmen’s face 
for a moment. 

There was a little shaky knock at the half- 
open door. 

“ Somebody else is behind me,” said Jack, 
thrusting in her flaxen head. “ Can he come 
in? Aunt Lucy said he might.” 

Carmen started nervously. 

“ Never mind your dress,” cried Dick, mis- 
interpreting her hesitation. “You never, 
looked sweeter in your life than you do in that 
blue wrapper ! ” and he flung the door wide. 

Vernon came hesitatingly forward. 

“I wonder what Santa Claus will brin or 

O 

me!” rattled on little Jack, quite unconscious 
of any embarrassment. “ I dreamed about 
such a lovely, great big doll, last night ! ” she 
sighed. 

“ Dear me ! ” cried teazing Dick, in a tone 
of great regret. “ What a pity ! Santa Claus 
thought of bringing you a doll, but I told him 
that being a boy — I was sure you wouldn’t care 
for it.” 

“Oh!” cried Jack, her little baby lip 
trembling. 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


291 


“ Never mind,” said Yernon. “ I expect to 
see him again to-night, and I’ll tell him it was 
a mistake — you’re a girl after all.” 

“O, will you?” cried delighted Jack, “and 
will you ask him to put some pennies in my stock- 
ing? I should like ten whole pennies all foi* 
my own ! ” 

“ O, what an avaricious Jack ! ” cried Dick. 
“ And then I suppose you will go and squander 
it all on an India shawl ! ” 

“ No, I won’t,” cried Jack, eagerly. I 
promise you I won’t.” 

“ Then I’m sure you’ll buy a waterfall ! ” 

Jack felt of her short, stubby hair, — a faint 
perception of the joke dawning in her merry 
eyes. “ Don’t teaze, Dicky, please, but come 
and show me where to hang my stockings. I 
must go to bed now. Come, Dicky, just a 
minute ! ” And they went off together.” 

“ I have brought something for Jack,” said 
Yernon, taking a large parcel from under his 
overcoat, which Carmen had already remarked 
had some strange protuberances. 

“ Do you think she will like that?” and he 
unrolled a waxen doll, in complete winter out- 


. 292 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


fit, with ermine furs and velvet cloak, — nor 
was this all, — by judicious pressing, the blue- 
eyed beauty was induced to say — a little 
hoarsely perhaps — one unmistakable word — 
“ mamma ! ” 

“ Like it? ” cried Carmen, “ she will be the 
happiest girl in Christendom, — that is, if the 
joy doesn’t kill her outright ! ” 

“ And will Dick like these? ” said he, display- 
ing a handsome set of sleeve-buttons and 
studs . 

“Magnificent!” exclaimed Carmen, almost 
ready to cry with pleasure at thought of such a 
delightful surprise for the good Dick who never 
thought of himself. 

“And would Margaret like this?” asked 
he, handing her an exquisite copy of Tenny- 
son. 

The involuntary admiration of Carmen’s 
eyes answered him, as she turned over the 
thick, creamy leaves. 

“And will Carmen like this?” said he, 
earnestly, laying a little box in her lap. 

Carmen started, with a first quick impulse to 
push it from her. But should she meet his 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


293 


kindness so ungraciously ? She opened it 
slowly. He certainly had not given her pleas- 
ure. Yernon, watching her so closely, could 
not misunderstand, — in spite of her self-con- 
trol, — the compression of her mouth, and the 
sudden burning in her cheek. 

44 And Carmen doesn’t like it,” said he, in a 
low tone. 

44 And Dick sold it to you ! ” she exclaimed, 
with such unmistakable pain in her voice, as 
she drew the Spanish chain through her thin 
fingers. 44 How could he ! I hope you didn’t 
think—” 

44 No, I knew you didn’t know anything 
about it,” interrupted Yernon. “I took it 
because I thought the time would come when 
you would value it again, and I hoped you 
would let me have the happiness of returning 
it to you.” 

44 It is just like you, Vernon, — always kind. 
So very kind ! But you must not blame me. 
I know you can understand that it is hard for 
some natures to accept such large favors, when 
they can give nothing in return.” 

4 4 But I am not so unselfish and disinterested 


294 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


as you think, Carmen. I came on purpose to 
ask you for something.” 

Carmen smiled faintly. She had long been 
acquainted with his kind devices, — his gener- 
ous deceptions. 

“ What shall the queen give you, Vernon?” 
she said, still with the saddest smile. “ Per- 
haps you will try to persuade me that you have 
no dearer ambition in life than to possess a pen- 
wiper ? ” 

“It is not a pen-wiper,” said he, smiling 
curiously. He rose, and walked twice across 
the room. 

“ Carmen,” said he suddenly, with an entire 
change of subject. “ Do you remember that 
night on the river, the last time I saw you? 
Do you remember a question you asked me ? ” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed. She had not thought 
he would ever allude to that. Had he lost all 
his old refinement and tact? 

“ Yes,” I remember it perfectly,” said she, 
waiting till her voice was very cold and 
steady. “ A very foolish question, to which I 
ought to have known the answer.” 

“ But I didn’t finish the answer, did I? 

I want to tell you — ” 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


295 


“This is inexcusable,” thought Carmen, the 
indignant scarlet burning still deeper upon her 
check. “No,” cried she, hurriedly. “You 
didn’t finish, but I understood you, perfectly. I 
know perfectly well why you cannot be my 
friend. Do not pain yourself and me by any 
farther explanations.” 

“Is it so?” said Yernon, sitting very still, 
with his hand over his eyes. 

There were a few minutes of perfect silence, 
while Carmen thought she had never heard any- 
thing so sorrowful as the moaning of the winter 
wind. 

Then Yernon arose. “ I am going, Carmen 
since I suppose you wish it. But - — sometimes 
it seems to me, perhaps you do not quite under- 
stand. I have thought of this so long — it is 
so important to me. I must be sure there is no 
mistake, — I must finish what I came to say, 
and then — if you wish it — I shall never 
trouble you again ! You said — ‘ Can you be 
my friend?’ I said. ‘No, Carmen, because 
— I am a great deal more — because — 
because I love you, Carmen ! ” 


296 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


The Hammonds were all at dinner the next 
day, but this was not the great event of the merry 
Christmas. Vernon had been there early in 
the morning, with an announcement which had 
made a great sensation, and was received with 
every variety of emotion. 

It was scarcely a surprise to shrewd Uncle 
Whitmore, who had long suspected which way 
the wind was blowing, and now smiled quietly 
over this confirmation of his foresight. 

Very hearty were the hand-shakings between 
him and Mr. Hammond, as the true, old 
friends rejoiced over this new tie between them, 
and very sincere were their congratulations, — 
although they both agreed that the young people 
must not be hasty — must be content to wait 
a while. 

Aunt Whitmore, too, took Carmen into her 
embrace, just like her own kind, motherly self. 
If she felt a little natural disappointment in 
Vernon’s choice, the good, unselfish heart 
scorned to show it. 

As for Aunt Ann, — she did not appear at 
breakfast for the first time in years ; and the 
hysterical little mother, going up to her room, 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


2^7 


found her sitting — half dressed before the row 
of handsome volumes — those millennial copies 
of Henry’s Commentaries ! She had touched 
them so reverently when she first discovered 
them. It might almost be that an anofhl had 
left them in the night ! Then she had opened 
them caressingly. She had read the startling 
words : ‘ ‘ Aunt Ann , with the love of Car- 

men ! ” and perfectly stunned, she had not 
stirred since. 

Now there had been events in Aunt Ann’s 
life which had staggered her faith, which, at 
times, had weakened her belief in an all-wise, 
over-ruling governor of the universe. There 
had been earthquakes when scores of helpless 
people and innocent children had been swal- 
lowed in sudden death, — there had been fires 
and awful disasters at sea, — she had seen the 
wicked in places of power, — and the good 
ground into the dust, — but, that Matthew 
Henry’s Commentaries should come to her 
through the instrumentality of Carmen ! it was 
a dispensation of Providence more inexplicable 
than any she had ever known ! “ To be sure,” 

Aunt Ann murmured, — “the raven, an un- 


298 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


clean bird, once brought food to the prophet 
Elijah,” and then her old cheeks fairly blushed 
with the presumption of the comparison. 
“ With the love of Carmen,” she repeated. 
And Carmen meant it, — she meant everything 
she said now. What had she done to deserve 
this love? Hadn’t she always been stern and 
forbidding? And this was what Carmen had 
been “ up to ! ” 

A doubt which had some time been lingering 
in Aunt Ann’s mind, suddenly leaped into cer- 
tainty. While she had been so busy with poor 
Carmen’s web, had she not been careless of her 
own ? had not the watchful enemy had many a 
chance to slip in his hateful shuttles? Had 
she not sinned more than the child ? 

“ No,” protested Aunt Ann, “I have not 
cared for dress, and the frivolities of the world ! 
I have given to the poor whenever I could, — 
I have spent but little upon my own poor, per- 
ishing body.” 

But there are different kinds of pride, — 
there can scarcely be an uglier web than that 
woven by the pride of self-righteousness I 

Aunt Ann seemed to hear a voice : — 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


299 


“ Though I bestow all my goods to feed the 
poor, and though I give my body to be burned, 
and have not charity , it profiteth me noth- 
ing.” 

And just here, laughing, and crying, the 
little mother came to stammer another piece of 
overwhelming news. 

Aunt Ann could hardly believe her ears. 
Was it possible that her favorite had been so 
slighted ! It was a great shock, and yet ought 
she to say anything? Would not the Judge of 
all the earth do right? Was not everything 
ordered by Him ? She must try to remember 
it, and she must do her duty. She rose, and 
went hastily to Carmen’s room. 

“ My child,” faltered she, making the great- 
est effort to string her troubled thoughts upon 
a thread of speech, “ I suppose this is all 
right, and I hope it has the blessing of God. 
He sees whether you deserve it. The king’s 
heart is in the hand of the Lord, and he can 
turn it whithersoever he will. It is not for me 
to say that he cannot do as much with a girl’s. 
I wish I knew what Matthew Henry — why, 
I’ll go and see ! And Carmen I want to say 


300 


ONE DAY’S WEAVING. 


— that is, I think you’ve been very — I don’t 
see why you should. Thank you Carmen ! ” 
she finally jerked, her face mottled with red, 
the lar^e vein in her forehead standing out like 

o o 

a cord, — sure sign of most unusual commo- 
tion — that, in the poor old heart, deep was 
calling unto deep. 

That she should have lived to find herself 
thanking Carmen ! And utterly astonished at 
the novelty of her sensations, poor Aunt Ann 
fled, and locked herself in her room till dinner- 
time. 

“ I thought you were foolish when you first 
thought of it, Carmen,” said Dick, “ but it 
pays ! ” 

When Carmen was dressed, and going down 
to dinner, she stopped with some forebodings at 
the door of her cousin’s room. Margaret had 
kept aloof from her all the morning. 

“ I thought you were happy enough without 
my congratulations,” said she, not stirring from 
the window where she sat in the attitude of 
Evangeline, — her beloved pencil and paper in 
her hand. 

“ May I see it?” said Carmen, gently, laying 
her hand on the morning’s effusion. 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


301 


Margaret made no objection, and Carmen, 
running her eye through a wretched four lines 
about “ her heart being a desert garden where 
life’s last flower had died,” — flung her arms 
suddenly around her cousin’s neck, and sobbed 
more violently than Margaret herself. 

“ You are touched then, by my verses, at 
last ? ” said Margaret, with a curious little glim- 
mer of gratified vanity. “ I did not think you 
would ever appreciate them. Such a practical 
person as you, can never understand what a 
comfort my talent for poetry is to me.” 

Carmen never gave heartier thanks than she 
did at that moment, for Margaret’s talent. 

The festivities and merriment of the exciting 
day passed over at last, as all things must. 
The company was gone — the lights were out, 
and Carmen, going to her room, lingered in the 
corridor, according to custom, with her faithful 
Dick. 

“ Seems to me, you have not been lively as 
usual to-day,” she said affectionately. Haven’t 
you been well ? And do you know this is the 
first Christmas that you ever missed giving me 
something, — if it were only a little candy 
dog?” 


302 one day’s weaving. 

“ Then you missed it,” said Dick, sadly. “ I 
didn’t think you would. I did have something 
for you, but I thought you wouldn’t care for it 
now” — he darted into his room, and returned 
with a muff of soft dark fur. 

“ O, Dick,” cried Carmen, “ how much that 
must have cost ! Mink is so expensive ! I 
know you have spent every cent you had in the 
world ! ” 

“No matter,” said Dick. “I knew you 
were almost always cold since you had the fever, 
and I wanted it to keep your hands warm — 
that is one of them, — the other I meant to have 
held myself. I don’t care if I am your cousin, 
and a month younger besides,” he cried, desper- 
ately. “ I was going to ask you to let me hold 
it all my life ! ” 

There was no mistaking his meaning. 

“ O, Dicky ! ” cried Carmen, the ludicrous 
and pathetic both striking her so forcibly she 
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

Dick solved the doubt for her, by explod- 
ing into a most hearty laugh of his own. It 
didn’t sound quite natural, but he felt much the 
better for it. 


GOLDEN THREADS. 


303 


“ There, you see I shall get over it. We 
will have plenty of good times together yet,” 
said poor Dick, bravely. 

“ Indeed we shall ! And no one, no matter 
who he is, shall ever fill just Dick’s place in my 
heart ! ” cried Carmen, eagerly. 

“ Yes, yes ! And no one, no matter who he 
is, will ever be so glad that Carmen has her 
wish, and is going to hold all the golden 
threads.” 

Carmen started. “ O, Dick, I hadn’t 
thought of that ! It frightens me that I ever 
dared to wish it. It is so dangerous to hold 
the golden threads, — what if I shouldn’t 
watch ! You must help me, Dick — You must 
promise to help me! If you see me growing 
careiess — if you see the smallest thread of 
wrong, — promise me you will hold up the old 
web, — you will never necer let me forget all 
the wretchedness that followed that one day’s 
weaving.” 












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